


Snowball Into Something Salvageable

by jolybird



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-25
Updated: 2014-10-25
Packaged: 2018-02-22 12:41:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2508212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jolybird/pseuds/jolybird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Okay wait shut up I have an announcement!” Grantaire shouted over the din and Enjolras sat up straighter, eyes wide. He tried to catch the other man's attention with a slight shake of his head.<br/>“Wait. Combeferre was complaining about his and Enjolras’ new neighbor having loud sex and it’s glorious.”<br/>“Oh.” Grantaire’s mouth clicked shut and he leaned forward in his seat, purposefully not looking at Enjolras. “Which new neighbor?”<br/>“We only have one new neighbor, Grantaire.” Enjolras’ voice was short and strained and he pinched the bridge of his nose like everything was too much. </p>
<p>Or</p>
<p>Enjolras and Grantaire never outright lied about their new relationship it was just that everyone jumped to the wrong conclusions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snowball Into Something Salvageable

**Author's Note:**

> For Les Mis Big Bang 2014. Shout-out to my amazing beta, Nicky who looked over this during a long car ride when she wanted to do literally anything else. Bless you.

Courfeyrac’s lips twisted into a smile as he watched Joly try to figure out what was bothering Combeferre. It was Friday, which meant they all got together for take away, TV and then maybe heading out to a bar. It had been their routine for the past three years although none of them could pin-point when exactly they started. They all just adopted a quasi-schedule for hosting and stuck to it. This week they were all converging in Jehan’s studio apartment which had been voted by last year’s Apartment Review Committee (formed and consisting of Bossuet, Eponine and Courfeyrac for the sole purpose of trying and failing to convince Grantaire to move out of the death trap he called home) to be the Best Apartment Ever on the grounds of having the fanciest snacks known to humanity and having about four times the space actually needed to hold a group of thirteen.

Jehan was immensely proud of his apartment. Joly had once called it Avant Garde-Regency-Rainbow Vomit and really that was the best way anyone had ever described it. Absolutely nothing matched, absolutely nothing was the same color and absolutely nothing looked like it had any right to exist in this reality. After four drinks, Enjolras refused to take his sunglasses off because it was ‘much too bright for him’. He also refused to go into Jehan’s study but seeing as that’s where Jehan kept his two skeletons of questionable origin Courfeyrac couldn’t blame him for that. They had first appeared a night Jehan, Joly and Combeferre had gotten extremely stoned and no one really wanted find out if they were just high quality Halloween decorations or not.

He watched Joly laugh, half hanging over the arm of the couch he had thrown himself across an hour ago to reach Combeferre on the adjacent couch. Enjolras curled up next to Combeferre, Feuilly sat in one of the recliners, Jehan had called the loveseat as he went into the kitchen to make snacks and no one touched Cosette’s rainbow throne and so by sheer process of elimination Courfeyrac was banished to the floor. It wasn’t terrible; he just stole some of Jehan’s pillows and blankets and made a little nest for himself.

“Come on, ‘ferre. You can tell us what’s bothering you!” Joly badgered. 

Combeferre’s “It’s really nothing” was perfectly transparent in the fact that something was totally fucking bothering him. It wasn’t anything bad; when Combeferre was truly upset he scrunched up his face the tiniest bit and pressed his lips into a thin line. Right now Combeferre’s were just twisted into a little frown and he tapped his fingers against the edge of his laptop. What was bothering him was just an annoyance Joly waggled his eyebrows and Courfeyrac knew that Combeferre was going to give in. He glanced over to the blond and, sure enough, he was looking away from the computer screen and frowning in thought. 

“Our new neighbor has the loudest inconsiderate sex at all hours of the day. We live in an apartment complex.” Combeferre groaned, rubbing his eyes. Next to him, Enjolras flinched and blushed slightly. 

Courfeyrac laughed from where he was stretched out under the window. “I never would have guessed I’d see the day Enjolras had more tact than you.” He smiled, shifting around in the mound of pillows.

“This isn’t a matter of tact. This is a matter of buying a stereo that’ll drown them out when I make lunch.” 

“Bet they’re filming porn.” Courfeyrac told him matter-of-factly and Combeferre only spared half a second to shoot him a glare. 

“Maybe it’s a high class prostitution ring.” Joly threw out and Courfeyrac shook his head. 

“Nah, it’s definitely porn.” 

“Jesus Christ, Courfeyrac, the new neighbor isn’t shooting porn.” Enjolras snapped without raising his gaze from Combeferre’s computer. 

Combeferre however, was giving his roommate a thoughtful look, “You know you’re lucky, I feel like you’re never there when it happens.” A blush overtook Enjolras’ cheeks instantly. 

Courfeyrac smiled, barely concealing a laugh and Jehan walked into the room from his kitchen with a bowl of dip in his hands and a bag of chips stuffed under his arm. Courfeyrac’s smile turned into a pout and he half-heartedly reached towards the coffee table, several feet out of reach. 

“Maybe you should get off your ass and come over here?” Jehan asked, not looking at him as he set the dip on the table and Joly stole the chips from him. He sat up and proceeded to open the bag, sending a warning glace to the others. “Where’d Bahorel go?” The chips were safely on his lap and he scooped up some dip, sending the others warning glances. 

As if summoned by the sound of crinkling plastic, Bahorel appeared in the hall behind Joly and snuck up behind him, silently reaching towards the chips. Joly gave a tiny cry when he realized what was happening and shouldered his hand away, diving to protect the dip. 

Jehan laughed and then sent Joly a glare as he went to sit with Courfeyrac on the pillows. “Come on, you have to share. There’s no way you can eat that whole thing on your own.” 

“Watch me.”

“Don’t encourage him. Your dish is still tied to the back of Enjolras’ bike.” 

Jehan frowned, as if just realizing he was a dish down. Courfeyrac echoed his expression and asked suspiciously, “Why are you sitting with me when you already claimed the loveseat?”

“I only claimed it for the movie.” The redhead responded airily. Courfeyrac narrowed his eyes but Jehan only smiled and tapped him on the nose. 

“Where are Chetta and Bossuet?”

“Bossuet should be here any second and Chetta’ll be here within the hour.” 

“Cosette and Eponine said that they closed line six again so they’re going to be late.” 

“Marius is having dinner with a friend of his so who knows if we’ll see him.” Courfeyrac threw in and then when no one asked, added, “What about Grantaire.” 

“He’s with Bossuet.” Enjolras said as if was universal fucking knowledge. Which, okay, it was but he didn’t have to so sound offended.

“Did you see what he posted up the other day?”

“Grantaire or Bossuet?” Enjolras asked, half distracted by Combeferre’s screen. 

“Bossuet.” 

“The article or the—“ Enjolras began but Courfeyrac cut him off. 

“The puppies of course.”

Joly laughed, “That was me! I didn’t realize he was signed in.” 

“Where the fuck did you find that?” 

Joly bit his lip and made a show of trying to remember and Courfeyrac laughed, “Your internet habits concern me.” 

“Like yours are any better. You don’t even speak Korean.”

“Adorable children are not limited by language barriers.” 

Jehan and Combeferre shared a long suffering sigh and Courfeyrac elbowed Jehan sharply. 

There was a scratching sound at the door and Joly poked his head over the top of the couch to look at it like an overexcited puppy. 

Jehan leaned forward to get up but then the door opened on its own and he sank back down next to Courfeyrac, pulling his cellphone out from his pocket. Courfeyrac tried to glance at the screen, all he could make out was an overabundance of purple and maybe a skull tattoo before Jehan dropped the phone to his side and looked back up to the doorway. 

“Yo hey guys.” Grantaire announced just before he and Bossuet tumbled into the apartment. Grantaire grabbed the doorframe as Bossuet pitched towards the ground. “Sorry, my fault.” He caught Bossuet’s arm and pulled him upright. Bossuet straightened up and brushed the imaginary dirt off himself. 

“Are you two drinking already?” Joly smiled, resting his arms over the back of the couch. 

“Already? It’s nine pm. It’s perfectly respectable.” Grabbing Grantaire’s arm Bossuet dragged him over next to Joly who scrambled up to make room for them. Courfeyrac sent the medical research student a glare but Joly only leaned into Bossuet and raised his eyebrows, a perfect non-verbal suck it. 

“What did you guys want to watch, I don’t remember?”

“I think Eponine wanted to watch Fringe?”

“Well Eponine’s not here so I think that should be forfeited and we should watch Sleepy Hollow.”

“Seconded!”

“Vetoed.”

“Fuck that!”

“Okay wait shut up before we do that I have an announcement!” Grantaire shouted over the din and Enjolras sat up straighter, eyes wide. Courfeyrac frowned at his weird behavior and glanced to Grantaire who was now taking animatedly with Joly despite the fact he had just called for attention. 

After a few moments passed and Grantaire and Joly kept waving their hands at each other, Feuilly leaned forward on the couch so that he could see around Enjolras. “Combeferre, how long has your thing been going on?” 

“But I had something to say!” Grantaire protested. 

“Wait. Combeferre was complaining about his and Enjolras’ new neighbor having loud sex and it’s glorious.”

“Oh.” Grantaire’s mouth clicked shut and he leaned forward in his seat. “Which new neighbor?”

“We only have one new neighbor, Grantaire.” Enjolras’ voice was short and strained and fuck, this was going to be good. Courfeyrac glanced over to Bahorel, they should bet on how long it’d take for Enjolras to go upstairs and say something. 

“Right.” 

“No. Just—Grantaire, make you announcement.” Combeferre shifted his laptop so that he could see him. 

For a moment it looked like Grantaire had forgotten what he was going to say. Just how drunk was he? Then he cleared his throat, picked up his beer (had he walked in with that or was Jehan holding out on him?) and stood on the couch. Joly and Bossuet both fell into his legs and he wavered dangerously for a second before the three regained their balance. “I love everyone in this bar.” He called with a cheer. Enjolras slowly dragged his hands over his face with a sigh. Grantaire drank to it. 

“Oh before I forget…” Bossuet reached into Grantaire’s bag as the man sat back down and pulled out a battered DVD box set. “I brought Oz with me this time.” 

Enjolras instantly sat up straighter and Grantaire’s lips twisted into a smirk but he said nothing. Jehan nudged Courfeyrac as he got up to go over to his loveseat. “Is this my invitation to join you?” he asked hopefully. 

“No but you won’t be able to see the TV from there. Honestly, you do it every time. Move because I don’t fancy listening to you complain over Enjolras arguing at the TV.” 

“You wound me, Prouvaire.” 

Jehan only smiled and reached down to help him up. He kicked a few of the pillows towards the couches and Courfeyrac dragged one of the blankets over to where Enjolras was making room for him on the ground before him. Courfeyrac sat between Enjolras’ legs and made himself comfortable as Bossuet and Enjolras bartered over where they should start. Apparently the two of them had a history with Oz but as it didn’t involve witches Courfeyrac didn’t care. 

“Actually I’m surprised Enjolras hasn’t marched up there yet to ask them to stop yet.” Bahorel leaned his head back on Combeferre’s knee so he could look at the blond. The man in question shifted uncomfortably in his seat before mumbling something, grabbing his and Courfeyrac’s glasses and going to the kitchen to refill them, despite the fact Courfeyrac’s was still half-full on account of it being too far out of reach. Bossuet sat in his wake looking victorious. 

“I think he said he did?” Courfeyrac offered but looked unsure. 

Grantaire snorted and Joly giggled. Bossuet caught both of their eyes and Joly laughed louder. Grantaire only smirked. 

“So is this like a daily thing or just an occasional annoyance?” Bahorel asked with transparent amusement. 

“Daily.” Was the groaned response and something fluttered in Courfeyrac’s stomach. 

Bossuet laughed, “Damn. I didn’t know I could so easily be jealous of strangers.” 

“Excuse me!” Joly protested, whacking his boyfriend on the arm. 

Courfeyrac tilted his head back to look and Combeferre who smiled back in a way that made his stomach flip. 

“Get a room.” Joly called, as if he had a sixth sense for when Combeferre made these ridiculously cute faces, and Courfeyrac didn’t even have to look away from the way Combeferre was laughing to flip the younger man off. 

* 

“This is all your fault.” Grantaire groaned, sliding the moving box into the backseat of the car. On the curb behind him Enjolras stood holding a laundry basket precariously filled with shoeboxes stacked so high he couldn’t see a single thing in front of him. 

“My fault?” Enjolras snapped, the shoeboxes wavered dangerously and his next words were calmer. “How is any of this my fault?”

“If you weren’t so loud—“

“Excuse me—you’re not exactly quiet yourself.” 

Grantaire took the laundry basked without warning, causing Enjolras to flinch and then scrambled to catch the top few shoeboxes as they toppled over. “Good call on the rubber bands.” Grantaire commented lightly in regard to the bands Enjolras had stubbornly wrapped around the boxes because “he was not digging around the backseat when they spilt” as he met Enjolras’ eye. The blond just glared him down.

As Grantaire turned and bent down to shove the laundry basket onto the already full backseat, Enjolras glanced down the street to the intersection where two cars were busy honking at each other. “It wasn’t my decision to keep it secret.” He muttered mostly to himself. Grantaire flinched but it went unnoticed by Enjolras, firm in his resolve not to stare at his friend’s ass. “All you had to say is that you had a one night stand.” 

“For the past four days?” Grantaire laughed and stood up, “Please. Either Combeferre or Courfeyrac would have it out of you within a fortnight. You cannot keep secrets. You act all weird.” 

“I do not.” 

“You went storming into the kitchen.” Grantaire laughed, taking the last of the shoeboxes from Enjolras and stuffed them into the over-packed back of the car. 

“They were talking about—“

“Us fucking. How embarrassing.” Not bothering to look at Enjolras, Grantaire slammed the door shut and then brushed past him to head up the steps leading to the door to the apartment. 

“I’m not comfortable our friends discussing our sex life.” Enjolras glared up at him as he watched Grantaire lock the front door. Even with his back to him, Enjolras could see him rolling his eyes and he pulled his jacket around him tighter. He pulled the passenger side door open with more force than was strictly necessary and threw himself inside. 

Grantaire slid into the driver’s seat a moment later and silently started the car. Enjolras thought about saying something but he couldn’t think of where to start. He was stuck on Grantaire’s self-deprecating tone, the way he had rolled his eyes and almost sneered as he stormed away. Them sleeping together wasn’t his problem but maybe to Grantaire it was? Was he embarrassed of their situation? All he had to do was say something. Enjolras wouldn’t keep him where he was unhappy. 

Neither of them spoke until they were on the road, Grantaire drummed his fingers on the steering wheel cover, it was decorated with borderline pornographic fairies which Grantaire had assured him at least four times wasn’t his idea. He was only borrowing the ancient thing from a friend for a couple of days. “I think one more trip tomorrow and I’ll have everything out.” 

“Why can’t we come back and finish today?”

Grantaire pointedly looked up at the sky, “It’s already snowing.” 

“Not heavily.”

“I’ll never understand how you can watch the news so often and yet never retain any information on the weather. Is it too specific for you? Too present?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes and reached to turn on the radio, “Just drive.” 

“It’s going to be really bad tonight, in case you had plans.” 

“I told you before, the only plans I have today are finishing an article for the magazine and helping you.” 

Grantaire made a small humming noise deep in his throat and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel before answering, “Cool.” 

Enjolras watched Grantaire as he dropped the last of the boxes unceremoniously onto the floor. “You better not make a habit of that.” 

“Of what? Dropping things?” he laughed, “You’re the one that demanded I move in.”

“I didn’t demand—you needed to get out of that apartment and Mr. Melo had just moved out and you agreed—“

“Calm down—I wasn’t being serious.” Grantaire spoke lightly but Enjolras frowned, had he been too forceful? Did Grantaire feel like he hadn’t a choice in this? “Earth to Dysis. Stop taking everything I say at face value, you know I’m ninety-nine percent bullshit.” When he met his eye though, Grantaire turned away. 

“You’d tell me though, right?”

“When have I ever given up the opportunity to argue?” Looking out the window, Grantaire stretched with arms over his head and his shirt rode up giving Enjolras perfect view of his lower back. Grantaire tilted his head back as he swung his arms down to his sides and turned around, raising an eyebrow. Enjolras turned his lips down into a sharp frown and the other man shook his head. “Get that look off your face.”

“What look?” Enjolras murmured as Grantaire came over to him. 

“When I first met you, I thought it was so weird that all your friends could tell exactly what you were thinking. Then I realized it’s because you wear your emotions on you face like one of Courfeyrac’s glittery protest signs.”

Enjolras filed the dig away for later and just asked, “What am I thinking right now then?” He was only a little ashamed of what he just said but Grantaire didn’t decide to tease him for it. Small blessings. 

Instead, he just watched him evenly. “Uh, no. You just said Combeferre was going to be home any second.” 

“We can be quiet.” Enjolras stepped forward, hands on Grantaire’s waist. Grantaire glanced up to him, biting his lip and raising an eyebrow and Enjolras drew in a breath. He stepped away quickly, lifting up his hands. “I’m not pressuring you. If you’re uncomfortable we don’t—“

Grantaire rolled his eyes and slipped his fingers though the loops of Enjolras’ pants, pulling him into him, “My consent isn’t the issue here. The issue is that you have a moth for a roommate and he’s getting tired of the sexathon of we’ve been having in every room of this apartment.”

“One. Please never say sexathon again, two, why, exactly, are you calling him a moth? I mean, in this situation.”

“Uh, because he has that creepy shadow box above his bed which automatically makes it relevant in any situation? And because the greater wax moth can hear up to three hundred kilohertz which is the highest any organism can—“

Enjolras put his hand over Grantaire’s mouth, “You sound like him and you’re running the mood.” 

“Is there any mood to save?” Grantaire asked, voice muffled against Enjolras’ palm. 

“There could be.”

“Not with Combeferre downstairs, there can’t.”

Enjolras frowned, “You invited me up last time.” 

“And the time before that you called me when you knew I should have been painting.” 

“Okay so we’ll just have to plan it out for when he’s not home.” 

“Have him print out a schedule. I’ll post it to the fridge with the little grape magnets I found. We’ll mark the most optimal times with little--” 

“Grantaire.” 

“You’re always telling me I should be more productive. And organized.” 

“I just wish this wasn’t so complicated, you know.” For starters, it wouldn’t have been the pair of them getting the sofa up the stairs. It had taken them the better part of an hour. He had plotted three ways to kill his best friend, two of which he was confident he could get away with. 

“Honestly, it’s not a big deal.” 

“They have bets already.” Enjolras sighed, probably more forlornly than necessary but shit it was frustrating. 

“And they’ll forget about it in a…” Grantaire trailed off at the glare Enjolras sent him. “Okay, no, you’re right. We’re never going to hear the end of it. Courfeyrac and Bossuet still give Marius shit about the handkerchief.”

“What are we going to do?”

“What do you want to do?”

“Don’t—“ Enjolras began but then he just sighed and slid his hands into the back pockets of Grantaire’s jeans. “Can we just watch TV?”

“Really? That’s your solution to this?”

“What are we supposed to do? There’s a reason we decided not to mention it. We’ll just reassess the situation later when the time comes.”

“So your plan is just wait and see?”

“Do you have a better one?”

Grantaire’s only answer was to pull him down onto the sofa and hand him the remote. 

* 

Feuilly swore as he ducked into Enjolras and Combeferre’s apartment building. He was supposed to have picked up Enjolras’ comparative politics textbook at least a week ago. Hell, Enjolras had dragged it out with him on several occasions but Feuilly never managed to meet him to get it. All he wanted right now was to curl up on his couch with some food and regain feeling in his feet. Tapping his toes against the ground to try to shake away the numbness, Feuilly gripped the doorway to keep his balance and glanced towards the elevator. He started when he realized Enjolras was walking into it, smiling kindly with an elderly man who looked fondly back at him. Feuilly smiled, Enjolras was a really good kid, despite how he might come off some days. The smile fell from his face however, as Enjolras went to press the button for their floors and the man’s hand came to rest on his ass. Enjolras didn’t react, he just leaned against the wall, eyes back on the man, still smiling. Feuilly could make out their voices but not their words and…okay maybe he was mistaken…But no that man totally just caressed Enjolras’ ass and Enjolras hadn’t even batted an eye. Enjolras, the man who had once (accidently) elbowed Courfeyrac in the face when he slid an unsuspecting arm around his waist at a bar. 

The door shut and Feuilly shook his head as he walked down the hall to the elevator. He was tired. It had been a long day. By the time he reached Enjolras’ apartment, he had convinced himself he was mistaken. “Hey, finally coming for the book?” Combeferre didn’t so much as flinch when he came into the room, the man was sitting on the floor using the coffee table as a desk, papers scattered around him. The flower pot iPod speakers Courfeyrac bought him was sitting on the edge of the table, threatening to fall. 

“Yeah, although it’s main purpose is going to be a pillow on the ride home.” 

Combeferre nodded, “Enjolras’ out so you can just grab it, I think it’s on his nightstand.”

“Thanks.” Feuilly slipped into Enjolras room and stopped in the doorway. Usually Enjolras kept his room in a semi-working order, but today it was trashed. Like, Bahorel-before-a-date kind of trashed. For some godforsaken reason, the thing that attracted his attention was a pair of red lance panties laying half on top of a leather cross-body bag. Which, okay yeah, that added to the Bahorel-before-a-date aesthetic but really sometimes he wished his friends were more private. At this point he could probably write a book on his friend’s sexual preferences and he really could do without most of the details. 

Slowly, he picked his way through the mess and tried to force the image from his mind. All he managed to do, however, was conjure up the way the man in the lift appeared to have put his hand on Enjolras’ ass and he should really just take the book and go. Something heavy thudded above him and he snatched up the book and all but marched from the room. 

“You alright?” Combeferre’s mess of papers somehow appeared messier although he looked unmoved, “You’re pale.” 

“Fine.” Immediately he realized that that didn’t help anything at all so he added, “Long day.” Combeferre frowned in sympathy. “When did you say Enjolras was going to be back?” Feuilly asked, just to get the ridiculous notion out of his head. 

“Not for a few hours.” 

Feuilly opened his mouth but something slammed upstairs and instead he asked, “Do you want to get something to eat?”

“I’m actually meeting Courfeyrac—“

“Oh. Is it a date?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He laughed but his ears had gone a little red. 

“Sorry—just, you had this look…Sorry. I shouldn’t listen to Joly.”

Combeferre rolled his eyes and smiled in a way that made Feuilly realize he really wasn’t that sorry at all. 

* 

Truth be told, Grantaire really didn’t know how exactly he ended up walking the streets of Paris at 10pm with Jehan and Courfeyrac both of whom were equally as drunk as he was. The air had the crisp about-to-snow smell but the weather forecast hadn’t called for it. 

Without warning Jehan stopped, Courfeyrac bumped into him but caught Jehan as he stumbled. The poet didn’t react, he just set his sights on Grantaire. “I would like to hang out at your place.” He pouted, crossing his arms and stomping a little. 

Grantaire grabbed his still-cross arms gently and pulled him forward, “Nah, let’s just go bother Combeferre and Enjolras. Joly left Mario Kart over there, remember?”

Jehan narrowed his eyes at him but the effect was ruined because he was still pouting. “I always fall off Rainbow Road.”

“Then don’t pick it.” Courfeyrac laughed. 

“But it’s a rainbow. In space. How can I not?”

“Come on guys, go this way, I know a shortcut.” 

“Oooo, Grantaire knows a short-cut to Enjolras’!” Courfeyrac teased with a wide grin. 

“Of course he does. He has a shortcut to everywhere in the city. They’re like little darkness corridors.” 

“Darkness corridors?” Courfeyrac asked, gleefully confused. 

“What are you insinuating, Prouvaire?”

But Jehan was evidently done with the conversation. He gazed up ahead of them, somewhere around the streetlights. “Am I allowed to escort someone?”

“To Combeferre and Enjolras’? Sure, I don’t see them minding.”

Courfeyrac nudged him lightly. “Yeah, of course you can, idiot.” 

“Excellent. Let me text her.” Jehan waivered in his steps now that his attention was diverted. Courfeyrac took his arm which prevented him from tripping off the curb but after a moment, Jehan just stopped walking altogether. “We should stop.”

“We have stopped.” Grantaire helpfully supplied, sharing a grin with Courfeyrac. 

“I need to concentrate.” Jehan had a slight whine in his voice and so Grantaire made sure to shut up before he got grumpy. The street around them was empty but the drug store across the road from them was still open so it couldn’t have been that late. He felt like he was in an Edward Hopper painting, only slightly more upbeat given the present company. Jehan sighed as he lowered his phone. “And now we wait.” He stepped forward and sat on the curb between two parked cars. Grantaire pressed his lips together and stuck his hands into his pockets. He didn’t particularly want to hang out here but—whatever. He sat down next to Jehan. 

“So who are we waiting on?”

“Only the most ethereal woman in all of Paris.”

“You would know the most ethereal woman in all of Paris.” 

“Does she have a sister?”

Jehan sighed and did not look at him, “If only we had time for me to tell all the ways in which you’re living your life wrong.”

“Ouch.” Grantaire winced in sympathy for Courfeyrac who just stared at Jehan, equal parts amused and wounded. 

Jehan’s phone went off and he peered at it, squinting too much and then let out a weary sigh. “She’s working the late shift. I forgot.” 

“Come on, let’s get to E and Ferre’s. If it makes you feel better you can tell us the Sparknotes version of what Courf’s doing wrong.” 

Enjolras looked up from where he was sprawled out on the couch and held his phone out to Combeferre so he could read the screen. “Translate please.”

Combeferre only needed to glance at the text before he turned back to his book, “Courf said that he, R and Jehan are on their way over.” 

From the corner of his eye, he watched Enjolras turn the screen back to him and scrunch his nose up, “That’s not what this says.”

“I’m going to grab the Nintendo.” Combeferre pushed himself up and went into his bedroom where the Nintendo was sitting out of harm’s way on his bookshelf. Last time Bahorel and Jehan nearly crushed in it what he still wasn’t sure was either an interpretive dance to Arctic Monkeys or a particularly visual argument. When he reemerged, Enjolras was smiling at his phone. 

“Apparently they’re all extraordinarily drunk.” 

“According to Courfeyrac or Jehan?”

“Grantaire.” 

Combeferre paused as he set the Nintendo on the ground and glanced back to his friend but he was already absorbed into something else, the fondness replaced by the beginnings of outrage. Actually, maybe he was still talking to Grantaire. As soon he Combeferre turned back to hook the game up, Enjolras got to his feet, “They’re here.” 

By the time they actually made it to their door, Combeferre had the system on and the Mario Kart start screen bathing the room in a green light. He was going to pick the track with the cows to fuck with Courfeyrac, he decided. 

Enjolras opened the door with a barely concealed smile on his face. “Hey.” Grantaire greeted as Jehan silently wrapped his arms around Enjolras as if he hadn’t seen him in a decade. Enjolras smiled and hugged Jehan back, swaying slightly back and forth. 

“I took the kettle corn out and ‘ferre’s got the Nintendo plugged in.”

Jehan gave a tired cheer and slipped into the common room. Enjolras turned to Courfeyrac and Grantaire, “Why’d you get him so drunk?”

“I think you mean why did he get us so drunk. I think we should all just be grateful Joly Old St. Nick wasn’t here.” Courfeyrac wandered into the common room where he instinctively sat next to Combeferre on the floor. Grantaire turned to Enjolras, “Can I have some coffee, I’m exhausted.”

“Yeah, come on.” 

Combeferre watched as Grantaire and Enjolras disappeared into the kitchen but then his attention was diverted completely as Courfeyrac wrapped his arms around his waist and Jehan cooed over the pair of them. 

“What is it?”

“With your brow on my brow, with your mouth on my mouth, our bodies tied to the love that consumes us, let the wind pass and not take me away.”

Really, Combeferre should have expected that. “Is that a Prouvaire original?”

“Nah.” Jehan smiled serenely at the pair of them. “Wind on the Island, by—um—Nobel Prize, Chile—um—fuck. Hold on.” 

Courfeyrac however tightened his grip around Combeferre’s waist and rested his head against his chest. When Combeferre glanced down, it was to see him frowning. “I won’t be Dorothy.” 

Combeferre looked up to Jehan for an explanation but if possible, Jehan only looked fonder. Sometimes he forgot but Courfeyrac and Jehan had been friends since they were kids. Courfeyrac had been Jehan’s only friend and when he moved away Jehan had been self-proclaimed “heartbroken and inconsolable.” Combeferre still remembered the day he, Courfeyrac and Enjolras were sitting out on the university green and Courfeyrac, who had previously been sprawled out on top of Enjolras, had sat up abruptly, eyes wide, disbelieving smile on his face. Combeferre had only time to glance behind him and catch a glimpse of the skinny redhead standing shell-shocked before Courfeyrac threw himself to his feet with a cry of “Jehan!” The two hugged for an impossibly long time and something had twisted unpleasantly in the pit of Combeferre’s stomach. The first few days were weird and it was the first time Courfeyrac had fought with Combeferre and Enjolras. Eventually it was Jehan who told them they were being “disgusting twats” and that their “best friend in the entire world” was “devastated to the point he’s skipping breakfast,” which was a really big deal. It was funny he remembered that but not how he met Courfeyrac in the first place, it was like he was just always there. 

As if he read his mind, the man in question looked up to him and frowned, “I really want some ice cream and waffles right now.” 

“In the morning, promise.” 

“Are you going to kick us out?”

“He just promised ice cream and waffles.” Enjolras remerged from the kitchen with Grantaire at his heels, however Enjolras held the coffee in his hands instead of Grantaire. Jehan perked up when he saw Enjolras and patted the seat next to him, which he slipped into wordlessly. Grantaire followed him and squeezed onto the couch as well and Enjolras handed over the coffee mug which made Grantaire smile reverently. He looked like he had literally been biting his lip. Combeferre felt a wave a gratitude wash over him, Grantaire cared about his friends so much, no matter how callous they might be. Although he was still worried over the fact that Grantaire literally bit his lip so that he didn’t argue with Enjolras. 

Courfeyrac squirmed his way off Combeferre’s lap and grabbed two of the controllers. Jehan made a messy head-first lunge at the other controllers. It took the combined effort of both Enjolras and Combeferre to keep him from hitting the ground. Courfeyrac made an unhappy noise as he wormed his way under Jehan and back to Combeferre’s lap. Jehan, however, took the whole thing in stride and just let himself be pushed back up onto the couch, controller clutched in his hand, already trying to pick his character. Combeferre had his controller unceremoniously shoved into his hands as he went to hand the last one to Enjolras. He glanced to Grantaire but he waved him off, much too content with sipping his coffee and watching. 

In the end, they managed to play Mario Kart for a full hour before Jehan and Courfeyrac swore it off because they were sick of Rainbow Road and cows, respectively. Courfeyrac kept shooting Combeferre glares that were completely ruined by the goofy smile on his lips. Grantaire and Jehan gave Enjolras a running commentary on everything Courfeyrac was doing like they were in a nature show. It was honestly a shame that Courfeyrac wasn’t noticing from his place half-asleep against Combeferre’s thigh. 

“I call shoddy on Enjolras’ sheets.” Grantaire announced, stretching his neck. 

“Why just my sheets?”

“Because Jehan hates the couch and Courfeyrac is obviously going to bunk with Combeferre tonight.” Courfeyrac mumbled something at this but it was more vibrations than anything. On the couch, Grantaire shifted into a more comfortable position and shut his eyes. Whether he was resting them or going to sleep was anyone’s guess. 

Jehan gasped and sat up quickly, “Ohmygosh!” A wide smile spread across his face and he hastily climbed to his feet, “She’s coming to pick me up!”

“Who’s coming to pick you up?”

“My sun and stars!” Jehan squinted down at his screen and then at the clock, “Oh no, she texted me this a half hour ago!” He raced over to the window and dramatically flung open the curtains. Headlights were slowly coming down the street and he sighed in relief. “Oh thank goodness, she’s just getting here now. I haven’t made her wait.” Combeferre raised his eyebrows, impressed at Jehan’s timing 

“Wait no—who’s she?” Courfeyrac protested, lifting his head from Combeferre’s lap. 

“I have to go goodbye!”

Enjolras climbed to his feet, jolting Grantaire awake. “Jehan wait—“ 

Jehan ignored them as he pulled his boots on and dug around on the floor for his coat. Courfeyrac got up to go look out the window. 

“Shoddy on Enjolras’ bed.” Grantaire announced instead as he too climbed to his feet to go see what Jehan was racing towards. 

“Jehan, where are you going?”

“Home.” He looked around the room expectantly but then when Combeferre started walking towards him he turned and pulled the door open, “If I’ve left anything you know where I’ll be.” 

“Wait—“ Combeferre went to stop him but Jehan slipped out the door, heading towards the stairs. Combeferre hovered at the doorway ready to chase after him as the other three peered out the window.

“Is he about to climb into a stranger’s car?” Courfeyrac could at least try to hide his amusement. 

“Well that’s his car so…”

“Hey no fair! He never lets me drive his car!”

“No one lets you drive their car, Courfeyrac.” 

“Should I make sure he gets down the stairs alright?” Combeferre interrupted as Courfeyrac turned to glare down Grantaire who was doing an excellent job in ignoring him. 

“Nah, he should be fine.” 

“Actually…” Enjolras mumbled, turning towards him. 

Courfeyrac stopped Combeferre from stepping out into the hall with, “He’s already outside. Missed your chance.” 

Combeferre shut the door and joined the others at the window as they watched Jehan climb into the passenger seat of his car. From their vantage point they couldn’t see the driver, even as the car drove away. 

After a moment Grantaire spoke, “Raise your hand if you knew Jehan had a girlfriend.”

“Wait, that was his girlfriend—“ Courfeyrac put a hand to his chest and wrapped an arm around Combeferre, “They grow up so fast.” 

“I think that should be our cue to get to bed.” 

Grantaire sighed heavily and Enjolras just grabbed his arm, “Don’t be stupid, you can share my bed. You already called dibs anyway, did you not?”

Courfeyrac hit Combeferre in the chest a couple of times as they watched Enjolras drag Grantaire off into his bedroom. “Did you see that?” he whispered. 

Combeferre just shook his head, “Don’t you dare. They’re getting along.” 

“Enjolras just dragged Grantaire into his bedroom.” Courfeyrac pulled Combeferre forwards, “Come on, I have to write this in my diary.”

“Your what?”

“My diary, I keep it on your bookshelf for safe keeping.” 

Combeferre flicked the light off in silence, unsure of how to reply to that. He followed Courfeyrac into his bedroom and mostly ignored his friend as he fished a leather-bound notebook he had never seen before from the bottom shelf of his bookcase. Courfeyrac made himself comfortable on the bed and began writing as Combeferre changed into pajama pants. The brunette didn’t look up as Combeferre climbed into bed next to him, “Turn the light off when you’re done.” 

Courfeyrac’s response was a hum around the pen cap and Combeferre laid down on his side facing away from him feeling stupid. He had shared a bed with Courfeyrac an uncountable number of times but for some reason he couldn’t get his heart to slow. It was just domestic in a way Combeferre wanted to cling to. It was probably because Courfeyrac had been clinging to him all night. He should have put a shirt on if he was going to be self-conscious like this. 

The man in question closed the notebook with a resolute snap and crawled from the bed to put it back on the shelf. He flicked the light off with a pleased little sound and fumbled around in the dark, swearing under his breath. 

“You okay?” Combeferre asked cautiously. 

“I’m just gonna leave my clothes in a pile on your floor.” Was all the response Courfeyrac gave him and Combeferre couldn’t help but smile even as he felt a blush overtake his cheeks. God how old was he? Sixteen? He was worse than Jehan right now. 

Courfeyrac climbed under the covers and immediately wrapped his arms around Combeferre, cuddling against him. “Do you think Enjolras and R are making out right now?” he asked quietly and Combeferre just responded with a noncommittal nose. “We should be making out right now.” Courfeyrac mumbled against Combeferre’s back, forcing the other man to roll over and look at him in the moonlight. Courfeyrac was pouting. 

“What does that mean?” Combeferre shakily whispered because what. 

“It means we should be making out right now.” Courfeyrac searched his face and then hugged him close, resting his head against Combeferre’s chest. “Ask me in the morning, okay? I’m too drunk right now. But don’t forget to ask me. It’s important.” 

“Courf…?” Combeferre asked but the other man was either already asleep or faking. He wrapped his arms around him and sighed, certain that he wasn’t going to be able to fall asleep any time soon. 

* 

Never challenge Joly to a drinking contest. 

Bahorel had blown more money than he was exactly comfortable with (and for him that really was saying something) on tequila shots. Not only had Joly kicked his ass but he had done so in front of Bossuet, Jehan, Cosette and Cosette’s pretty office mate with the fucking adorable laugh. He felt vaguely sick and he was disgustingly far from home. Alone. At two in the morning. And it was snowing. 

Never fucking challenge Joly to a drinking contest. Apparently it attracts Bossuet’s bad luck. 

However there was one upside to the situation and it was that he was only two blocks from Combeferre and Enjolras’ apartment. Fishing his phone out of his jacket pocket with more concentration than really should be necessary, he dialed Enjolras’ number without really registering that it was two in the morning. 

Enjolras however, answered on the first ring which was fucking impressive. “You alright?”

“Yeah. Just wasted. Is it cool if I crash on your couch tonight?”

“Of course. Should I come get you?”

“Nah I’m only two blocks away. Just leave the door unlocked.” 

“You have five minutes and then I’m coming to get you.” 

“Your lack of faith astounds me. Honestly, Enjolras.” He began to say, I’m not Grantaire but wasn’t quite drunk enough to not realize that would only just incur Enjolras’ wrath. 

“Joly called to brag. You have five minutes.”

The sudden silence on the other end of the phone meant that Enjolras had hung up on him. Bahorel frowned but if he wanted to make the two blocks in under five minutes, he was going to have to brush it aside and concentrate. Sometimes he wished he was back home, where all the buildings didn’t look exactly the same. But that “sometimes” was really only times like now. 

Bahorel rounded the street, passing restaurants that his parents back home could only maybe afford for a special anniversary dinner. It had been a while since he spoke with them. He should call them up, thank them for sending him away from Montesquieu where some nights he was convinced nature was trying to retake his entire neighborhood. 

But no—he was on his way to Enjolras and Combeferre who lived in an apartment which was much, much, much, too nice for students. Fucking upper class. 

Actually, most of his friends were fucking upper class. Thank fuck for Eponine and Feuilly and…Marius maybe? And alright, upper class was probably stretching it a bit, Joly, Musichetta & Courfeyrac’s families were all firmly middle class (although, Courfeyrac’s parents could have rivaled Combeferre’s if they didn’t have so many goddamn kids. Whenever Bahorel turned around, Courfeyrac was introducing another brother or sister. Seriously, how many could he possibly have? Where do they keep them all?) 

Grantaire was probably a trust-fund baby. Probably. A trust-fund baby who pissed off his parents and who refused to take an allowance so he lives in a worn down, falling apart, mold-infected shithole. 

But Marius…he was fairly certain that Marius had been homeless at one point? Hadn’t he been living on Joly and Bossuet’s couch before he moved in with Courfeyrac? 

And—stop. The Italian restaurant next to him meant that he had passed their apartment. Unless—wait—which way had he come from? He looked down the street and then up at the windowsills, Combeferre had some herbs in the kitchen window. Their house had a lot of plants, he mused. Herbs in the street-side windows, evergreens on the fire escape overlooking the courtyard. 

Okay, fuck, he was supposed to be looking for basil, not coming uncomfortably close to the conclusion that their apartment was extremely similar to Old Man Martins, whom six-year-old Bahorel had been absolutely terrified of. 

The only problem was that he couldn’t really see basil plants in dark windows because they were—wait. One of the windows had a light on and there they were—the heroes of the hour—Combeferre’s basil plants. Bahorel turned around and it was about now that he realized he knew what their door looked like so really the easier thing to do would have been to look for the door but that was neither here nor there as he went through the courtyard, entered the building and sighed at the twenty feet separating him from the lift. Whose idea was it, really, to make it so difficult to get inside? Fucking seriously. 

Bahorel, however, was not going to be outdone by a mere twenty feet of walking so he carried on and jammed the lift button with more aggression than the situation warranted. 

Right as the doors began to open, the door to the apartment complex opened again and Bahorel had to seriously rethink how slow he was moving when the person managed to get into the elevator right as he leaned against the side wall. Before he had the chance to reach out and press the button for Enjolras’ floor, the stranger did so for him. 

“Thanks, man.” Bahorel looked up at the stranger who was wearing a baseball hat that covered most of his face. However, Bahorel would recognize that chin anywhere. 

Wait, that sounded weird. He wasn’t obsessed with chins. He just knew what his friends looked like. Besides, he had bought Grantaire that sweater for his birthday. It was the most fashionable thing he owned. Shame he was ruining it by wearing a baseball hat. 

“Hey man.” He greeted but Grantaire only nodded and continued to stare in the direction of the buttons. Thank fuck someone else was having a shitty night. “E’s a fucking god-send, yeah? Him and ‘ferre. They’re both too good for their own good. And their couch is fucking obscene. I call shoddy on it, by the way. We can convince E to let you bunk with him. Or, ‘ferre’s got a nice bed too. I guess you can have your pick.”

Grantaire didn’t respond but it didn’t much matter. The doors opened onto the third floor and he pushed himself out into the hall. The world spun for a moment but then realigned itself. Bahorel turned to see if Grantaire had managed to make it out of the elevator but the door was already closed. “Fuck.” He breathed and then jammed the button to try to save Grantaire from vanishing in the abyss that is playing drunk elevator tag. He was so intent on saving his friend he didn’t register the sound of a door opening until Enjolras was right behind him.

“What are you doing?”

Bahorel didn’t so much as flinch as spin around, reaching for Enjolras’ help. “Grantaire was in the elevator with me but didn’t get off and now he’s gotten off on the wrong floor.” 

Enjolras looked him over and then put a hand on his arm, “You didn’t mention he was with you.” 

“He wasn’t—he was in the elevator. He had a hat on but—“

“Did you see his face?”

“No, but—“

“It probably wasn’t him. Why would he be here at two in the morning?”

Bahorel just looked down at Enjolras like he was from an entirely different species, “He’s having a shitty night and you have the best couch this side of town?”

“No I’m sure he’s home right now. Besides, he crashed here last night and spent most of the day nursing a hangover on the couch. Let’s go inside.” 

“But Grantaire!” Bahorel protested but Enjolras just marched him into the apartment. In retrospect, Bahorel was glad no one was around to see Enjolras, who was half his width and almost half a foot shorter than him, push him around. 

Despite his worry, Bahorel only lasted as far as the couch before he was out. The last thing he remembered was Enjolras on his phone as he turned the TV off. 

He woke up the next morning to the sound of bacon frying and Enjolras handing him an aspirin and water. “Coming here was the best idea I had all night.” Bahorel groaned. 

“What exactly possessed you to try to out drink him?” Combeferre called from the kitchen. 

“Every once in a while you have to tempt fate.” 

Enjolras rolled his eyes but offered him his hand to get up, “’Ferre’s making pancakes and bacon.”

“My hero.” 

“Your timing’s actually impeccable, because these are the last of them.” Combeferre flipped the last pancake onto the plate and put the bacon onto a plate which Enjolras placed on the table in front of Bahorel. He took two, chewing them as Combeferre dumped the grease into the sink and put the pancakes down. 

As the two blonds sat down, Bahorel grabbed pancakes and piled them onto his plate before smothering them with blueberry syrup. Combeferre was fucking amazing and his love for blueberry syrup was the reason they were friends. “I don’t understand how both of you are so fit if you can cook like this.”

“It’s called moderation.” 

He nodded, “Cool, more for me.” 

Enjolras laughed, “Just eat your breakfast.” 

They ate in silence for a few minutes, the only sound the clinking of silverware on plates, before Bahorel looked up sharply. “I have a new theory on Bossuet’s shit luck.” Combeferre waved his hand for him to continue and took another bite of the pancakes. 

“Okay, so. I think that if you lose a drinking contest to Joly you get shit luck. So Bossuet must always be trying to outdrink him subconsciously or shit.” Combeferre and Enjolras only stared at him blankly. Bahorel nodded, “Makes sense, doesn’t it?”

“I really thought Enjolras was going to have to go out and find you.” Combeferre glanced to his roommate, who shut his eyes and shook his head. 

“I wasn’t that drunk!”

“I heard you yelling about Grantaire from my room.” There was a teasing smile on Combeferre’s lips and Bahorel hit his fist on the table gently. 

“I’m one hundred percent positive that was R in the elevator last night.” 

Enjolras looked up from where he was pushing crumbs around his plate and when he spoke it was in a careful tone, “You said you didn’t see his face and that he didn’t talk to you.” 

“It was him.” 

The blond tapped his fork on his plate once and then shook his head decisively, “I can assure you he wasn’t.”

“Oh, were you in the elevator with us and I didn’t notice?”

Combeferre glanced from Bahorel to Enjolras and then swallowed his bite of bacon quickly to play peacekeeper, “Why would he be in the elevator?” 

“Honestly I thought he might be here for some illicit booty call but—“

At this, Combeferre did laugh, even as Enjolras blanched, “Who would he be going to? Mrs. Fleur?” 

“Is that the woman who’s in love with Joly?”

Enjolras stood up and took his now empty plate to the sink, “You know, I actually forgot about that.”

“Bossuet smuggled him into the apartment once or twice because of it.” Bahorel pushed his plate away from him, perfectly content even if he still felt like he had been mercilessly run-over. 

“Do you want a shower?” Enjolras asked as he took Bahorel’s plate. Combeferre continued to pick away at his plate, he was always the last one done out of all of them. Grandpa. 

“That’d be incredible.” 

“Let me go grab you some clothes.” 

“Don’t give him my green sweats, I’m wearing them to the gym later.” 

Enjolras glanced to him and for a minute, Bahorel thought he was going to comment but then he just nodded, “Come on.”

Bahorel pushed himself up slowly and followed after Enjolras. His blond hair was up in a bun and his tank top was threating to slip off his shoulder. He wanted Grantaire to be here to see him. Enjolras ducked into Combeferre’s room for a minute and unceremoniously pushed a handful of clothes at Bahorel when he came out. “You feeling alright?”

“Better. Mostly I just feel regret.” 

“Grantaire said that regret was the most physical emotion.” 

“Grantaire and Joly both like to pretend they’re goddamn philosophers after three beers.” 

Enjolras snorted and leaned against the wall next to the bathroom, “You good?”

“Yeah, yeah. Get back to your dishes.” 

“Careful or I’ll make you do them instead as payment.” Enjolras’ smile was small but his eyes were teasing. “Please. I don’t think you’re capable of that. I’ve never met someone so determined to wash dishes before.” Which was true, Enjolras was always the first to volunteer and he had physically restrained people from helping before. Everyone had their quirks, some people just had really fucking useful ones. Enjolras pushed himself off the wall with a laugh and Bahorel went to shut the door. Last minute, however, he pulled it open and called after him, “By the way, R was totally in that fucking elevator!” 

Enjolras didn’t even turn around, “He wasn’t!” 

Bahorel laughed as he shut the door and pulled his clothes off, leaving them in a pile on the floor. However, as he turned the dial and stepped into the already-steaming stream, he narrowed his eyes and remembered the way Enjolras had shot him down last night. He was really fucking keen on insisting that it wasn’t Grantaire in the elevator. The hot water left him feeling much better already but left him realizing he was really fucking insulted. He liked to think he knew what his friends looked like by now. 

* 

The backroom of the Musain had been used primarily for storage before Les Amis took it over the year before Joly entered university. The club had lasted a record of four weeks as a school sanctioned club with a meeting room in the philosophy wing before they were kicked out. No one was really sure what had happened, the only ones who had been in the club at the time had been the founding trio, Musichetta and Cosette. All five told different stories, although, most alarmingly, Enjolras and Cosette’s both involved a circus elephant. It had been Musichetta who found the Musain. Joly and Bossuet, both of whom worked there at the time, were more than happy to talk the owner into letting them use the backroom. The pair never officially joined, it was more an osmosis as they snuck them drinks and snacks even after they both quit. The owner adored them and there wasn’t much they couldn’t get away with (See: The Great Chicken Debawkle aka How They Met Feuilly). 

The arrival of Les Amis meant a total transformation of the backroom. It went from storage to another seating area thanks to Joly and Bossuet devoting an entire weekend to removing dusty boxes (Bossuet ended up with fourteen stitches and the Pinocchio soundtrack was banned from being sung on the premises—no one asked for details). It wasn’t exactly private but the owner had kept the door and in general people don’t open unlabeled doors. This of course, meant that it was nearly constantly used by Les Amis as whatever they needed it to be: a quiet study room, somewhere where they could collectively nurse hangovers in peace, a holding area before or after protests or marches. 

Today was no different. Grantaire, Joly, Bossuet, Musichetta, Enjolras and Combeferre had all assembled in the back room, a small platter of cheese fries on the table in front of them. 

Combeferre picked one of them up, twirling it in the air absentmindedly as he looked to Grantaire. “Enjolras and Bahorel argued for the better part of a half-hour the other day over if you were in the elevator with Bahorel when he was drunk. I actually don’t think they’re talking right now.” 

Joly laughed at the quiet betrayal on Enjolras’ face but then he noticed how unsure Grantaire looked and stopped. Grantaire’s eyebrows furrowed and he looked to Combeferre. His eloquent response was, “Oh.” Joly couldn’t help it, he laughed again. This time Combeferre chuckled and Grantaire smirked. “Yeah okay, that’s all your fault, you know.”

Joly straightened up and puffed out his chest in indignation, “Bahorel should know by now that no one can outdrink me.” 

“Did the neighbors behave at least?” Bossuet asked, tapping the paper Musichetta was furiously writing on. She paused to read where he had pointed and then scratched something out, twisting the page to write a tiny note in the margins. 

Glancing up, Musichetta grinned, “they must have or Bahorel would have told us all by now.” 

Enjolras pushed himself to his feet, grabbing his half empty glass of ice tea. “Has anyone actually heard them recently?” Grantaire asked as Enjolras slipped past him, out of the room. Joly watched the hasty retreat and frowned, what was wrong with him?

Actually, now that Joly thought about it, Enjolras was acting really weird about this whole thing. He wasn’t a prude; he didn’t shy away from sex-talk. He certainly didn’t partake in the details but he never gave any indication that it made him uncomfortable. When Courfeyrac or Bahorel gave too many details he simply shut them down, he didn’t evade or try to leave the room. In fact, Joly specifically remembered him giving advice on more than one occasion. Albeit, the advice had been more along the lines of don’t do anything you’re uncomfortable with and the always ironic communicate. 

“I actually haven’t heard them in a couple of days.” 

“So your neighbors might be celibate now and you wouldn’t know the difference?”

“What like they got it out of their system?” Musichetta scrunched up her nose and next to her Bossuet frowned at Grantaire. 

“I don’t know why you’re not all over this. This is just the kind of thing you’d think was fucking hilarious.” Reaching for a cheese fry, Grantaire waved his free hand airily. “Monsieur Patrica isn’t here at the current moment and ‘ferre’s reached the point where he’d just put his head down and ignore me.”

Joly snorted at this but then, as he took in how twisted Grantaire’s smirk was, the smile slipped from his face. If he was being honest, Enjolras wasn’t the only one acting weirder than normal. The start to the new semester was busy on all of them but Grantaire in particular seemed more worn than usual. He also wore this secretively little smile when he thought no one was paying attention to him. Nothing sinister, nothing like he had just put some hot sauce in Bossuet’s drink but more like he was unrestrainedly happy. He hadn’t met anyone that he knew of, but maybe something was going well with his art? Was he in line for a promotion at work? Did dance instructors get promotions? Joly felt he once knew the answer to that. 

Combeferre’s phone vibrated on the table, jolting Joly from his thought and Combeferre scooped it up quickly, pushing his chair back, “It’s Courf. I’ll be right back. ” 

Joly made a face at his boyfriend and girlfriend as Combeferre walked to the other side of the room, voice soft so that they couldn’t eavesdrop. 

“Do you think I should compare Angel and Alec here or…” Musichetta mumbled glancing up to Bossuet. He had to tear his eyes away from Combeferre to look down at her paper. 

“You mean compare and contrast her relationship to them?”

“No, I mean—“

“No don’t do that. You’re focusing on her, not them. It’ll only detract from your thesis.”

Musichetta scrunched up her face, “Well it’s not like I’m a literature major like you and Jehan.” Joly held out his first for his girlfriend to bump, which she did with a smile and Bossuet rolled his eyes. 

Joly glanced to Grantaire, uncharacteristically silent. He wore a half smile on his face, studying the grooves on the table, completely lost in his thoughts. He looked like Marius when Courfeyrac introduced him to Cosette. For a moment Joly entertained the notion of commenting on it but instead decided to just leave him to it. He looked back to Bossuet and Musichetta who were both frowning at the paper between them. “One of these days I’m going to do something about them.” The both looked up and he nodded his head towards Combeferre to show who he was talking about. “Something happened, I know it did. He’s blushing. And did you hear his voice crack around Courf’s name?” 

Musichetta sighed, “Joly, back off. They’ll work it out on their own.” 

Leaning forward, Joly pressed his lips together before speaking, “See I don’t think they will.” 

“They will.” 

“Who will?”

“Speak of the devil.” Bossuet wore a small smile, no doubt because Combeferre’s sudden appearance had caused Joly to flinch. 

“That was a fast phone call.” 

Combeferre looked at them evenly, “What are you planning?”

“Nothing.” Bossuet smiled the same time Joly asked, “How’s Courfeyrac?”

Combeferre sank into his seat, placing his phone on the table and stoutly ignoring him, “Musichetta, how’s your sister doing?”

Musichetta made to answer but she was interrupted by Grantaire suddenly getting to his feet, “I’m going to see where Enjolras got to.” He mumbled distractedly before heading out of the room. Joly watched him go, a plan forming in his mind. There wasn’t much he could do about Courfeyrac and Combeferre right now (if something did happen, he didn’t want to fuck it up by acting blindly) but Grantaire on the other hand…

* 

Grantaire was pretty much continuously impressed with Enjolras. He was impressed with his naivety, his determination, the way his hair managed to always be perfect (save for his outrageous bedhead, but even then Grantaire was still impressed). Enjolras’ single-mindedness to turn Grantaire’s apartment from storage locker to actually livable was something even beyond that. Mostly it was because Grantaire had planned to live out of boxes for the next month. But here they were, just days after he officially moved in and the majority of the boxes were gone. The kitchen now almost mirrored Joly and Bossuet’s (something that had horrified Enjolras. His exact words had been, “Why did the three of you decide to have matching kitchens? Why is the theme grapes? Where did you even find all of these things?”. Grantaire had responded, “Could have been worse. My grandmother’s kitchen was decorated with cocks.” Enjolras had thrown a grape pot holder at him and when Grantaire went to elaborate had assured him that, “yes, I understand you’re referring to chickens). The living room was set up and there were sheets on the bed. 

Or well, there were supposed to, they had gotten a little distracted. 

Enjolras’ hands rested around Grantaire’s hips, fingers just under the waistband of his boxers as the brunet straddled him. Grantaire kissed Enjolras’ neck and Enjolras just sort of sat there. After a moment of getting absolutely no reaction, Grantaire pulled back, “What are you doing? What’s wrong?”

“I’m trying to see if Combeferre can hear us.” 

Grantaire smiled softly and let out an amused huff of air, “He can’t because he’s with Cosette this afternoon, remember?”

“Yeah.” But Enjolras didn’t give the slightest hint he actually heard him, he just continued to concentrate on the apartment downstairs. Grantaire trailed his nails up Enjolras back, causing the other man to shiver. He caught Grantaire’s eye and then his lips. Grantaire smiled into the kiss, sliding his hands into Enjolras’ curls and tugging lightly. Enjolras gasped against his lips and Grantaire sighed, “Fuck, Enjolras…” 

Enjolras hummed, hands on Grantaire’s ass for the most glorious of seconds before he froze beneath him, “Did you hear that?”

Grantaire shut his eyes and let his hands drop before he glanced around the room, warily, “Hear what?”

“It sounded like the door downstairs shutting.”

“Don’t be paranoid. You got that selfie Cosette sent you of her and ‘ferre at the museum. There’s no way he could get home that fast, even if he was headed straight here. It’s all the way across the city. And anyway, aren’t they meeting Feuilly for lunch?”

“I know I—“

“Relax, you’re just being paranoid because our friends are dicks.” Grantaire ran his hands up and down Enjolras’ thighs. 

A soft groan escaped Enjolras lips, and he sighed, “I just want to fuck you in peace.” 

“Then maybe you should stop thinking about our friends and just get to it?” Grantaire rested his forehead against Enjolras, eyes on his lips. 

Enjolras gently pushed Grantaire off and onto the bed next to him. Splaying his fingers over his chest he pushed him down until he was laying on his back, then he started kissing his neck. 

“I like this change of pace.” 

Enjolras only responded with a smirk as he started kissing Grantaire’s collarbone, palming him though his boxers. Grantaire groaned at the sudden touch and put his hand back into Enjolras hair as the blond kissed a trail down his chest. 

“Enjolras.” Grantaire whined. 

Enjolras bit lightly at Grantaire’s hip and Grantaire’s back arched, a cry escaping his lips. Grantaire fisted his hand in Enjolras’ curls and Enjolras hummed, pleased.

Downstairs Courfeyrac sat perfectly still on his friend’s couch, Grantaire’s cry echoing in his ears. 

His hand hovered above his phone in an aborted move to turn his music up. 

That hadn’t been some nameless person. 

That was Grantaire.

Okay so. 

Okay. 

So. 

Maybe the neighbor wasn’t a prostitute or porn star. 

Wait, did Grantaire do porn?

Or maybe he’s the prostitute. 

Or maybe he looked into this and just bought himself—

Wait but no he had gone on that really offensive rant about the sex industry a few months back, Bahorel had hit him.

Courfeyrac gathered his things on autopilot, suddenly uncomfortable about the topic of his jokes being one of his friends. Being alone in Combeferre and Enjolras’ apartment wasn’t an uncommon thing, in fact, he was pretty sure he was here alone more than Enjolras was. He didn’t really expect to be here when Upstairs Neighbor was getting it on. 

However, knowing it was Grantaire gave him a singular advantage. 

Throwing his things into his bag, Courfeyrac headed out the apartment door, taking care to lock it on his way out. Once he had forgotten and Never Again. His best friends were terrifying. He headed towards the stairs and shouldered the door open. His sneakers squeaked on the polished surface as he headed upstairs (what kind of apartment building polished their stairs? This was why Bossuet wasn’t allowed to use them except for on piggyback). 

Courfeyrac froze with one foot still hovering over the next step. What was he doing? Was he really going to go bang on the door of a strangers apartment just because he knew his friend was having sex inside and he wanted to demand answers? He put his foot back down onto the lower step. That was fucking weird and he wasn’t going to do it. It broke probably at least seven rules of friendship. And he wasn’t about to cock-block Grantaire. He wasn’t that kind of guy. 

Besides, Grantaire was keeping silent on the topic for some reason and in all honesty, there was a possibility of him just hiding or ducking out a window and Courfeyrac had already been responsible for Grantaire scrambling out a window naked once (and unfortunately that incident had nothing to do with sex). Their friendship really didn’t need for it to happen a second time. 

Courfeyrac turned around and headed back down the stairs. He’d just have to get to the bottom of it some other way. 

* 

Bossuet dropped the empty bottle of gin into the sink with a loud crash that topped over the precariously stacked dirty dishes. “Oops—“ he gasped and reached out his hands as if to catch them but stopped short and settled on just a wince. He put his hands on the counter and peered into the mess to make sure nothing had broken (something probably had which was why his hands were on the counter and not in the mess, thank you very much). With another sigh he pushed himself away and stumbled into the living room to get his phone off the couch. He threw himself down, grabbing both his phone and the remote and then tried to simultaneously change the channel and text Grantaire. After a minute of frowning alternatingly at both, he left the TV on a home renovation show and devoted his full attention to Grantaire. 

**Bossuet (12.28pm): Where Rrrr you??????**

Grantaire (12.29pm): The Musainnn. Why????????

Bossuet frowned at the way Grantaire was obviously making fun of him. But he had a bigger problem than Grantaire being fucking rude. 

Bossuet (12.32pm): Im alone :((((( 

Bossuet (12.32pm): HOLD ON IM COM,ING 2 U

Bossuet (12.36pm): WHERE IS THE JACKET

Bossuet (12.37pm): WEATHER????? 

Grantaire (12.37pm): Of course you need a jacket, haven’t you been outside today?

Bossuet (12.39pm): Does it LOOK liken Ive meen outside?????

Grantaire (12.41pm): What did you do?

Bossuet (12.41pm): DRINK

Grantaire (12.41pm): I’ll have one waiting for you, calm your tits. 

Bossuet (12.56pm): YES 

* 

Grantaire had honestly been expecting a cast of some sort when Bossuet walked through the door. Instead, he looked like he was undercover. He wore a beanie and sunglasses with one of Musichetta’s scarves wrapped around his neck, covering his mouth. He looked ridiculous, especially when he glanced around nervously before making a shaky beeline towards Grantaire. He ungracefully sank into the seat next to him—and by ungracefully he meant he almost missed the chair. Grantaire slid the drink over to him and Bossuet wrapped his hands around it, nodding solemnly at him. 

“So, what did Tyche do this time?”

“She has her back to me currently.” Bossuet loudly whispered, as if he could be overheard. He took a quick sip of his drink and then put it down. Grantaire frowned because usually Bossuet hated the taste of whiskey. He only enjoyed it when—

“Wait, are you wasted right now?”

Bossuet nodded slowly. 

“You do know it’s one in the afternoon?”

He clumsily put a finger to his lips and shushed him. “I want to do something fun.” 

“Fun like what?”

“Let’s go to the park.” 

“I don’t think we should—“

“I want to see the birds, please.” 

A large majority of their misadventures came from Grantaire’s inability to say no to Bossuet and Joly’s pout so off they went to the park. 

Bossuet wrapped his arms around Grantaire’s as they strolled down the path. By now Grantaire was a hundred percent certain that this was the drunkest he had seen Bossuet in a while and that he wasn’t going to remember any of this in the morning. Usually he was the one most sober (out of he, Joly and Grantaire) and "took care" of the others (he was still usually more drunk than most of their friends so his help was more of a belated "oops"). But it was nice in a way, a little change of pace. 

“Everything’s alright, yeah? At home and at work?” 

“Everything’s fine.” The reply came with a clumsy pat on his arm and Bossuet sighed, “I did finally tell my uncles I dropped my law course and I’m taking literature now but they took it well. They said not everyone has to be successful environmental lawyers in this family. You and Grantaire can be starving artists and be your scientists’ kept men.”

“Your Uncles said no such thing.” 

“I swear on my honor they did.” 

Grantaire laughed as Bossuet sat them down on a bench overlooking a playground. A couple of kids waddled about, no older than two or three, more State Puff Marshmallow than human. Bossuet rested his head on Grantaire’s shoulder and sighed, “I’m bored, walking isn’t as fun as I imagined it to be. There aren’t many birds.” 

“It’s the middle of winter.” Grantaire supplied helpfully. 

Bossuet groaned, “I would say we should go on the swings but the last time I was on a playground—“

“You shattered three ribs, I remember I was there.” They hadn’t realized Bossuet was even hurt until he collapsed on the way home. Grantaire remembered Enjolras freaking out although he didn’t remember him being at the park with them. 

“I guess we could brave public transportation to get back home. Chetta made meatballs and spaghetti.”

Grantaire stood quickly as Bossuet made to get to his feet and instead pitched towards the ground. He hoisted him up, wrapping an arm around his chest tightly as he regained control of his legs. He really shouldn’t be going across the entirety of Paris right now. He and Enjolras had decided to keep their...whatever the hell Enjolras was calling it today secret but when it came down to it, Bossuet was more important than any pact. “How about we just go back to my place. It’s closet.”

“No it’s not.”

“Just trust me, alright?” Enjolras was probably going to kill him. 

Bossuet didn’t utter a single sound the entire way to Grantaire’s apartment. He was so silent that Grantaire thought he might be dozing off, the only part of him remaining awake being his legs. It wasn’t until Grantaire unlocked the door that Bossuet reemerged to groggily ask, “Wow, did I know you moved?”

“No.”

Bossuet laughed, “Wow, Joly’s going to absolutely murder you, you know that right. Do you have a will written up? Does Enjolras know?”

“About the will?”

“No about you living here so when your blood drips through the floorboards—“

“Calm down Prouvaire.” The door the apartment swung open and Bossuet laboriously detached himself so that he could explore his new second home. The privacy had been nice while it lasted but Grantaire was honestly ready to be bombarded with company again, he had an open door policy for a reason. 

Bossuet staggered into the house, a wide disbelieving grin on his face. “This is nice, a lot bigger than your old one—and no gross mold on the walls. Thank you for finally putting your parents money to good use. How many bedrooms do you have?”

“It’s a mirror image of downstairs—“ Grantaire tried to explain but Bossuet’s attention was already diverted, he squinted at the painting Enjolras had hung on the wall. “Is that yours?” He looked around and then went for the lamp on the side table. His shoe got caught on air and he only just caught himself on the table. The lamp fell with a loud crash and Bossuet giggling face suddenly turned serious. He raised himself up and surveyed the shards of glass and then Grantaire. “You clean and I’ll get a replacement.” 

“A replacement from where?” Grantaire asked cautiously, lips twisting in a smile. He didn’t care for the lamp and Bossuet was fucking hilarious. 

“Where the fuck do you think? The lamp replacement store.”

“Right.” Grantaire went into the kitchen where he was pretty sure a broom and dustpan lurked, listening to Bossuet swearing and stumbling under his breath. He found the broom wedged between the refrigerator and the wall but by the time he reentered the living room, Bossuet had vanished. “Boss, you alright?” He called out as he lazily swept most of the mess up. 

There was a muffled response from the bedroom that sounded positive so Grantaire didn’t worry much as he cleaned up the destroyed lamp. After he deposited it in the trash with a mental note to maybe get an area rug for the living room to soften blows when he had the cash, he grabbed a beer from the fridge. He was getting low. He had just taken a sip when he heard a crash and headed for the bedroom to locate Bossuet. Grantaire leaned on the doorway and watched Bossuet change his clothes while sitting on the floor. “What are you doing?”

“I can’t smell like I’ve been drinking. They’ll never let me replace a lamp if they know I’m drinking.” Bossuet brushed past him into the bathroom and a moment later he yelled, “You’re suck a fucking hypocrite, R, you have a tube of the toothpaste you made fun of Enjolras for buying that one time.”

Of course the next step was toothpaste. He probably recognized some of Enjolras’ things in the closet as well. “He’s really too picky about it.” 

“So you bought some to improve your argument? Grantaire, you know I love you but you are in some deep shit.” Bossuet’s next words were muffled behind a toothbrush and Grantaire trusted him not to choke on the suds and went back to the kitchen to grab his phone from the counter.

He stared at the lock screen, trying to decide if he should tell Enjolras that Bossuet was currently making himself at home upstairs. But it wasn’t like they were dating. Enjolras wasn’t entitled to know every last thing that went on in his life. He’d just tell Bossuet to keep it to himself and then if he felt like it, Grantaire would tell Enjolras Bossuet knew. No big deal. 

Bossuet’s loud footsteps in the living room signaled that Grantaire’s presence was needed before he lost Bossuet to whatever his idea of a lamp replacement store was. 

“Is there anything I can do to convince you not to do this?” Grantaire asked, looking Bossuet up and down and didn’t even try to stifle his grin. 

Bossuet straightened out the sunglasses and brushed out imaginary wrinkles on the plaid pants, artfully rolled up to resemble capris and not three sizes too small pants. “Nope.” 

Grantaire pursed his lips and breathed out slowly, they were in trouble. 

* 

Bossuet woke with a groan and buried his face into his pillow, pulling the blanket up over his shoulders. His head was threatening to split open and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to vomit or not. He shut his eyes for a moment, breathing in deeply and then sat up. 

The first thing he realized was that he wasn’t at home. 

The second thing he realized was that someone had left him water and ibuprofen, which he gladly drank. 

It was only when he was swallowing the last of the water that he realized he didn’t know where the fuck he was. 

He placed the empty glass on the table and then called out, “Hello?” No response. 

Right, well, he could work with this. 

First thing first, self-inventory. No injuries that he could tell. He was wearing clothes that weren’t his but he was pretty sure they were Grantaire’s so that was okay. If Grantaire was involved it was okay. He patted himself down and something crinkled in his pocket. He took it out already, dreading what it was. A receipt. For a lamp. 

“What the fuck…” he mumbled and then his eyes landed on the unplugged lamp on the table next to him. He glanced from the receipt to the lamp and stood up, letting the paper fall to the couch. He picked up the lamp and looked at it. It didn’t spark any memories but he guessed he bought it last night?

Without bothering to put the lamp down, he walked over to the entertainment center and frowned at the elephant statue. It sat there in its little poncho, maraca held in its little trunk, smiling up at him mockingly. He looked around the apartment, suddenly offended. He had gotten this fiesta elephant for Grantaire for this birthday. What the shit was it doing in this apartment?

As he glared around the room, lamp still clenched tightly in his hand, he noticed the painting hanging above the couch. It was Grantaire’s from the last art show he was in. The plot thickened. 

The room was familiar, not so much the furniture or the color of the walls but the layout of the room. He knew it. One of Grantaire’s many acquaintances’ homes maybe? Lord knows they had crashed at at least half a dozen of them the past year alone. 

The sun hit his eyes as it rose over the buildings across the way and he held his free hand up to see if he could recognize the view as well. 

When he looked out the window everything just…stopped. He knew this view. He rushed over to the window, finally putting the lamp down on the floor and then pushed it open. He looked down though the bars of the fire escape and yeah—he could see the winter plants Jehan had bought Ferre a few weeks ago on the landing below him and—

Wait. 

Fucking just wait. 

He was in the apartment above Enjolras and Combeferre which meant…

He was in Loud Sex Apartment. 

He ripped his hands away from the windowcil and turned back to the entertainment system. What the fuck was Fiesta Elephant doing in Loud Sex Apartment?

And no wonder he had recognized the layout. It was identical to Combeferre’s. 

But the bigger mystery was why Grantaire had a painting and Fiesta Elephant in this apartment. Before this moment, Bossuet didn’t even consider Grantaire’s involvement with this particular headache of Combeferre’s. 

He could make so much money off of this. Where did Grantaire stand? For the life of him Bossuet couldn’t remember him placing any bets on it. Very suspicious. Why hadn’t he thought it suspicious before this?

From where he stood at the window he could see into one of the bedrooms and spotted what looked like his cell phone sitting on the floor. Gingerly, he pushed the door open the rest of the way and glanced to the bed, empty. He scooped up his phone, he had several messages but only one from Grantaire: _It’s my apartment. At work. Please don’t tell everyone. NOT. JOLY. Help yourself._

_It’s my apartment. My apartment._ Loud Sex Apartment was Grantaire’s. 

Well oh, fucking, kay. If that was the story he was going with, Bossuet was going to roll with it. That meant he could snoop around in peace. Joly was going to be livid when he found out. It was so long since he could hold something over his head like this (metaphorically, physically he held things over his head all the time). After he ransacked the apartment and if it did appear to be Grantaire’s (Bossuet wasn’t as surprised as he probably should have been, this day had been months in the making), Bossuet could bum a change of clothes and a shower. 

And then he should set about getting something to eat. 

*

“Shit, Bossuet, I didn’t even hear you come in.” 

Bossuet shrugged, reaching into the cabinet to get the Smacks they kept only for their friends. “I’m very stealthy.”

Enjolras watched him from his and Combeferre’s tiny breakfast table. Comfortably, it sat four but once they squeezed nine of them around it for an explosive (literally) game of strip poker. That had been the night both strip poker and remote control race cars had been banned from the apartment. 

Enjolras looked spectacularly grumpy, his too-big shirt hung off his shoulder and his hair rivaled Musichetta’s, which was saying something because his girlfriend had some truly impressive bedhead. “What are you doing up so early?”

“I was trying to figure out where the sun went and then it dawned on me.”

Enjolras let out a little huff of air but just glared deadpanned at him as Bossuet poured the cereal into the bowl and then proceeded to drown it in milk. 

They fell into a silence that lasted about five more minutes; the only noise was the sound of cereal being chewed and spoons bumping against glass bowls. Bossuet didn’t look up from his cereal as he broke the silence by saying conversationally, “You better be the one fucking my best friend.”

Enjolras lurched so violently that the cereal on the spoon ended up on his lap and his knee bumped against the table, sending the milk in Bossuet’s bowl sloshing over the side. “What?”

“Don’t ask me how I got there but I woke up in his apartment this morning and when I looked out the window I realized that it was the one above yours.”

“Wait—did you break in though my window?”

“Yep. Intruder window.” Bossuet chirped cheerfully. 

Enjolras glanced up, deadpanned but then his expression instantly became worried. “Listen it’s…complicated alright? Grantaire doesn’t know what to make of this whole—thing we’ve got going on. We don’t want you guys to know because that’s just too much pressure. So—please just for a little while more until we figure out what’s going on—don’t say anything to anyone. Don’t even tell Grantaire you know.” 

“What do you think?”

“I don’t know…”

“Besides the sex—which all of us already know is fantastic and they’re all going to die by the way and it’s going to be the best fucking moment of my life. But besides the sex…”

Enjolras glanced away to gather himself and then looked Bossuet in the eye. “I think I want a proper relationship, only it terrifies me.” Bossuet liked it when Enjolras confided in him. It made him feel powerful. Like Combeferre. 

Bossuet smiled, then frowned, then smiled again. “Wait, before you said to not tell Grantaire that I know. But I’m pretty sure he’s the one who took me to his apartment. So he kinda already knows that I know.” “He doesn’t know you know about the relationship.”

Bossuet chuckled, ideas forming instantly, “Right. Oh I like this. So he knows that I know he’s loud sex neighbor but not who he’s having loud two PM sex with. I can work with this.”

“On second thought, I’m telling him I told you.” Enjolras reached for his phone but didn’t even bother to unlock it. 

“Don’t ruin my fun.” Bossuet sat up straighter and nearly pouted at him, it was worryingly reminiscent of Joly. Bossuet could feel it in the way Enjolras’ gaze became fond. “Look, I’ll keep this between us if you promise I can be there when Courfeyrac finds out.” 

That earned him a roll of the eyes but also, “Promise.”

Bossuet smiled, reached across the table and booped Enjolras’ on the nose. The blond tried to muster up an offended look but his expression was much too fond for that. Bossuet sat back and took a bite of his toast, “Enjolras and Grantaire: Loud Sex Neighbors.”

“It wasn’t on purpose!”

“Well at least now I know what to get your for Christmas.” 

Enjolras blanched and then covered his eyes as he reached for his spoon. 

* 

When it came to his best friends, Joly didn’t mess around. When he sees a mug for Bossuet, he buys it right then. When he comes across an article Feuilly would like, he sends it right away. That was why he was in the library the day after he came to the conclusion that something was up with his best friend, slouched down in his seat, watching Grantaire’s back as he poured over some project that was undoubtedly due in the immediate future. 

Joly glanced down at his phone, Bossuet had texted him three times in just as many minutes, apparently over his hangover. 

Bossuet (2:03 PM): Where are you? 

Bossuet (2:04 PM): Hurry home Chetta and I need u ;)

Bossuet (2:05 PM): I FOUND YOUR DINOSAURS AND I’M SO UPSET. 

He went to reply but movement caught his eye and his head snapped up.

Grantaire was on the move. 

He moved slowly, his walk more a defensive slouch and he knew three in every five people on campus so he made frequent stops. The downside to this was that Joly also knew most of these people so he wrapped the scarf around his mouth, pushed Musichetta’s sunglasses up and pulled her hat down. He was dressed head to toe in Musichetta’s clothes today. He was going for the feminine hipster look. Her skirt made his legs look great, if he said so himself. He made an adorable girl. 

As Grantaire stopped to talk to two art students, Joly leaned against the library wall and pulled out his cell phone. He had competed his image with a little phone charm he found in one of the kitchen drawers. It was a little beaded ballerina. Or flamingo. The bottom line was that it was pink and shiny and completed his image. 

The girls shouted goodbye to Grantaire and Joly’s head shot up just in time to see him disappear around the corner. He was deceptively fast when he wanted to be. 

Joly rounded the corner with his metro card out, thinking that Grantaire was headed home but instead he was waiting at the light to go in the opposite direction. Perfect today wasn’t going to be a waste of make-up. 

He followed Grantaire across the street and then casually strolled after him, silently pushing him to go where he needed him to and not to a park or somewhere to sketch. Bossuet and Musichetta needed him and they’d only wait so long. 

Bossuet should be here. He was the hummer. Actually, he and Grantaire both were the hummers. This wasn’t a well thought out plan. Who underwent secret missions without background music?

Joly narrowed his eyes as he watched Grantaire turn the corner onto Enjolras’ street all casual as fuck. Well fuck him. What business did he have there? Was Enjolras the reason for R’s strange behavior? Were they being weird together? Or was he just projecting what he wanted to see? They could be so happy if only they got over themselves, which, he knew wasn’t right. Relationships in which you made yourself into someone you weren’t or suppressed parts of yourself weren’t healthy. Despite the arguments and the way Enjolras and Grantaire seemed to exist on two totally separate planes, he honestly believed that if they just listened to each other and truly communicate, they would click. He really believed they would be good for each other, they’d be happy. 

Slowly he followed Grantaire down the sidewalk, he watched as some of the neighbors said hello to him and then smiled politely at himself. Joly couldn’t keep the smile from his face, proud that his disguise worked. He caught the gate as Grantaire slipped into the courtyard of Enjolras’ building and watched him go to the elevator before he rushed into the building. He watched the numbers rise, reach Enjolras’ floor and then…go up one more and stop. He gasped despite himself and he raced back onto the street in time to see LSA’s lights turn on. He could see Grantaire’s dark curls in the window a moment later. This was so highly suspicious. He could go knock on the door and confront Grantaire right then and there or…he could bide his time and catch his friend totally off guard. His phone went off again and he was conscious of the fact the neighbors sitting outside were giving him odd looks so he pulled his phone. Bossuet had sent him a picture message that had Joly spinning around and heading towards the nearest metro. Fuck Grantaire. He was going to get to the bottom of this later. 

Before he stuffed his phone back into his pocket, he sent a group message that just read: PARTY AT E  & F’S TONIGHT!!

* 

Enjolras dropped his bag at the door and reached down to unzip his boots when he realized that his living room was stuffed with his friends. He didn’t even need to look up to know that they were there. Dropping his boots on the ground, he walked into the fray. “Do I even want to ask why you are all in my apartment on seven o’clock on a Monday night?”

“Joly called party.”

“Oh well, if Joly called it.” 

Bahorel patted the seat next to him and Enjolras sighed and went over, Cosette offered him chips and dip, which Bahorel took for the both of them. “How was work?”

“Someone keeps returning books in the wrong place so for two hours I was searching for missing books.” Enjolras groaned and Bahorel stuffed a chip into his mouth. Cosette giggled and Joly pushed himself to his feet. 

“I’m going for a smoke does anyone want to come with?”

For a moment Jehan looked like he was considering and then he shook his head, leaning back into the couch and taking out his cell phone. Bossuet and Musichetta sent him worried glances that he smiled off. The wind stung his skin when he wrenched the unlocked window open and he glanced over his shoulder to see if it was worth going to grab his coat. Right now he was alone and he really shouldn’t chance attention to this reconnaissance mission. So, sucking it up, Joly climbed out onto the fire escape and lazily pulled the pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket. He glanced to the window, cigarette to his lips. No one was looking. Good. Stuffing the cigarette back into the pack, he climbed the stairs two at a time, eyes locked on the dark window above him. He caught the edge of the frame and pulled; it was unlocked. He frowned at how unsafe it was, especially since Enjolras’ had been as well. He pushed the window open and then called out into the dark apartment, “Hello?”

No answer. 

He climbed in and looked around in the darkness for a light. He found a lamp on the side table in front of him and flicked it on, listening for any hint of movement. He was drunk enough to think this was a good idea, but still sober enough to realize he was totally fucking breaking and entering. 

“Excuse me? Is anyone home?”

There was still no answer so Joly took it as his invitation to go in. He was just a concerned citizen. He had heard voices. Or smelt smoke. 

Concerned citizen. 

He briefly glanced around the room and frowned. That was Grantaire’s couch. That was Grantaire’s ex-girlfriend’s painting on the wall above the table, the one with the orca and the unicorn. That TV was the one he and Bossuet went to pick up with Grantaire and Bossuet caused the corner to crack before they got it in the door. Joly went from the living room to the kitchen and froze, horrified. 

There were grapes everywhere. 

From the magnets to the towels to the curtains. Everything was grapes. 

With betrayal growing in his chest, Joly all but raced to the bedrooms, still wary of someone lurking in them. Both of the doors were open, one sported an easel and a bookshelf and nothing else, the other was an actual bedroom. Neither of them contained anything but belongings. The bathroom held no surprises The apartment was empty. Perfect. 

Joly went back into the bedroom and dug through the closet, increasing offended. Black sweaters, a green jean jacket, a hideous pair of plaid pants. These were all Grantaire’s clothes. 

Grantaire’s and that was his favorite cat sweater. He had been looking for it for weeks. He was going to kill him. He said he hadn’t seen it. What a fucking liar. He was best friends with a liar who inexplicably lived above their other friends and who was having loud obtrusive sex and hadn’t said a single word. He had told Grantaire the instant he started sleeping with Bossuet and Musichetta. You could ask them, there were text messages that prompted a ban from Joly having his cell phone within arm’s reach during sex. A little harsh in his opinion as it had only been once or twice. 

From the bedroom he moved into the bathroom, which was stocked with all of Grantaire’s usual shampoos. He glanced through the cabinets but there was nothing he could use to fuck with him. There was one toothbrush but two kinds of toothpaste. No signs that he lived here with someone else—which might have been too much for Joly, honestly. Secretly moving was one thing, but secretly moving in with someone was something else entirely. He shut the bathroom light off and went back into the living room. His friends laughter ran out from downstairs and yeah he should really head back down before they notice his absence. 

After all, he had accomplished what he set out to do. The reason Grantaire had been acting weird was that he had moved. He moved without telling his very best friend in the entire world. Did Bossuet know? How far did this betrayal run?

Furious that Grantaire hadn’t even mentioned he was thinking about moving, Joly went over to the fridge and grabbed the last two bottles of Pelforth, his and Grantaire’s favorite beer.. One he finished as he did another lap of the apartment, moving things slightly in hopes that Grantaire stubbed his liar fucking toes and then left the apartment with the other in hand. 

Joly slipped back into the apartment to see Jehan on Courfeyrac’s laptop. He had a funny, almost impressed look on his face and then lifted his eyes to look to Courfeyrac, “Wow, Courf, this is a lot of porn.”

Combeferre looked vaguely scandalized for a moment and then Courfeyrac swore and leapt from his seat to snatch the laptop away. “I can explain.” He said quickly and Combeferre chuckled to himself. Joly sat next to him. “What’s up?”

“He’s doing research.”

“And _that’s_ more than I need to know.” Joly stood back up and went over to Grantaire who eyed his Pelforth suspiciously. 

“Where’d you get that?”

“Found it in the back of E’s fridge.” He smiled and then held out his fist, Grantaire bumped it automatically. Joly took a sip and leaned back, “It was the only one though, sucks for you I’m not sharing.” 

“You alright?” Grantaire asked lightly instead of complaining and for a moment Joly thought he was onto him. Then he remembered he used the smoke break excuse to get outside. He always carried a pack of cigarettes around with him but he very, very rarely smoked them, and even then he could probably count the times he smoked an entire cigarette on his own on his fingers. He used it as an excuse to get outside, away from everyone when it all just became too much. Sometimes he couldn’t shake the feeling he was a time bomb, that he had a disease that could at any moment take all this away from him. It was best to keep busy, keep moving when that happened. 

Joly smiled at his best friend and took a sip of the stolen beer, “I’m fine. Promise. It’s going to snow.”

Grantaire leaned his head back and groaned, “Again?” 

Jehan, still wrestling with Courfeyrac over possession of the laptop, laughed loudly and caught their attention, “Why do you have a July Revolution folder? All this time you’ve made fun of Enjolras but really it’s because you’re self-conscious of—“

“Prouvaire give it to me!” 

“No way I—what that doesn’t even look like the bastille! I don’t want to be the one to break it to you but your porn’s really shit quality.” 

“It’s not my porn!”

“It’s on your laptop!”

“You’re not even old enough to look at porn.” Courfeyrac tried to yank the laptop from his offended grasp but only managed to pull the headphones out. Bahorel immediately choked on his drink and Feuilly started laughing at the shitty dialogue. 

“’Ferre, help!” Courfeyrac cried over the moans. 

“You’re on your own.” He called from across the room. 

“Is he supposed to be Maurice Antoinette?” Jehan continued as Bahorel peered at the screen over his shoulder. 

“Who?”

“A male version of Marie Antoinette.” 

“Is that a thing?” Feuilly asked before a loud in inaudible cry of either pain or pleasure echoed through the apartment, halting all conversation. Marius’ face was nearly purple. Grantaire said something to Enjolras that made the blond hit him. Huh. 

The four were silent for a couple of seconds and then they all burst out laughing. 

* 

Joly’s inability to keep secrets was a well-accepted fact within his group of friends. It wasn’t like he purposefully went around going “I’m going to blab this secret to everyone,” he just couldn’t help it. In fact, it was about on par with his usual track record that he lasted until he, Musichetta, and Bossuet were getting ready for bed that night before he told them of his adventure. Unceremoniously, turned and said, “Did you know that Grantaire moved out of his apartment?”

“He what?” Musichetta asked, pausing as she took off her stockings. Bossuet was already half asleep on the bed fully clothed and didn’t respond. 

“Yep. Moved out of the old apartment and into a new one. And you’ll never guess which one it is.” 

“Uh—“ Musichetta began, throwing her stockings in the general direction of the laundry basket. “I don’t know. Is there a specific apartment that I should know about or—“

“I followed him home one day and he went to Enjolras and Combeferre’s apartment, except he went to the floor above them and I saw the light turn on. And then! At the party tonight I broke into the apartment and Grantaire lives there alone. Except I’m pretty sure he has some of Enjolras’ clothes in his closet so honestly I don’t know what the fuck is going on.”

“Grantaire lives above Enjolras and has his clothes in his closet?” 

“Guys!” Bossuet half shouted as he jolted awake and leaned towards them. It was a testament to how long they’ve been together that they didn’t even flinch. “They both don’t know where they stand and Grantaire said that he wanted to tell us but he couldn’t because we all knew he was banging someone and Enjolras keeps secrets as well as Joly!”

“Why do you know all of this?” Joly demanded, completely ignoring the dig. 

Bossuet scratched the back of his head and smiled sheepishly at his boyfriend, “Well the thing is I spoke to Enjolras over breakfast one day.”

“And he told you that Grantaire moved in upstairs? And that they were dating?”

“Well, I might have woken up in Grantaire’s new apartment one morning and after realizing where I was I went to hang out with Enjolras.” 

“You woke up in Loud Sex Apartment?” Joly’s voice was slighter higher than normal; his face bewildered and slightly skived out. 

“I woke up in Grantaire’s apartment yeah.”

“Does it look like a BDSM dungeon?” Joly and Bossuet both looked at their girlfriend incredulously, she just shrugged, “That’s how I always pictured it.”

“Does it look like a—“ Joly echoed faintly but then couldn’t continue.

“No! ‘Chetta it looks like Grantaire’s apartment! Only nicer now obviously there isn’t mildew on the walls.”

Joly chuckled and Musichetta grimaced, “Well I guess we can put him back on the roster for Friday Night Movie Night?”

“You guys have got to stop unnecessarily capitalizing things.” Bossuet sighed and then added, “Oh and I don’t think they’re in a relationship, I think they have some kind of friends with benefits thing going on.” 

“That’s…potentially problematic.” 

“Shit, that’s why they’re keeping it a secret. They’re making a mess of things.” 

“But they’re trying. Enjolras told me that.”

“Enjolras is trying but is Grantaire? Or is he self-sabotaging?” 

“He wants it to work but he doesn’t know what Enjolras wants.” All three of them frowned at then and then in an attempt to change the mood asked Joly, “Did you see Fiesta Elephant?”

“Yeah he has him next to his TV. For a minute I thought someone had kidnapped Wishing For Peanuts Elephant’s brother and the endeavor was going to turn into a search and rescue mission. But anyway,“ Joly leaned away, “I’m not speaking to you.” 

“Even though my silence was perfectly justifiable for the sake of friendship?”

“Even so.” 

Bossuet nodded solemnly and then climbed from the bed, “I’m gonna lock up.” 

Musichetta watched him go and then turned to Joly, “Sweet, you know why he didn’t mention it.”

“Are you taking his side?”

“I’m always on both of your sides.” 

“That’s a very diplomatic answer but tell me how you really feel.” 

Musichetta sighed, slightly annoyed, “No wonder you and R are best friends, you’re both completely ridiculous.” 

Joly gave her his best toothy smile and Musichetta tilted her head back and groaned. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Maybe tell Bossuet to hurry up so we can cuddle?”

“I thought you weren’t speaking to him.” 

“You don’t need to speak to someone to cuddle with them, Musichetta.” 

“Of course, love.” She deadpanned. 

* 

Wednesdays were Combeferre’s favorite day of the week simply because they meant an extra two hours of sleep, he had time to double his morning jog and he had a glorious three hours to himself before he had to leave for class. This particular Wednesday however, he decided to forgo the jog and just stay in bed a little longer. It was nearly eleven by the time he finally managed to drag himself out from under his covers, wondering if he was coming down with a cold or if the stress of a new semester was just getting to him. It didn’t help that he could still remember the way Courfeyrac held him, lips pressed against his shoulder. 

As he made his way down the hall, he looked into Enjolras’ room to see if he was in. He should be; he had an eight o’clock class that let out at ten. Enjolras’ room, however, was empty. Combeferre tried to remember if he had mentioned any plans today as he went into the kitchen, his body screaming for coffee. He numbly took a mug out of the cabinet was halfway to the coffeemaker when a cry rang out. His eyes went wide and he all but threw the mug on the counter. 

Shit. Enjolras was hurt. 

Combeferre turned and hurried across the kitchen, wondering how the fuck Enjolras managed to hurt himself in his—

Wait. 

Coming to an abrupt halt, another cry rang out, more muffled this time, the same moment Combeferre realized Enjolras wasn’t here. He had literally just checked his room. 

But there also was no mistaking that cry so Combeferre hurried into the living room, empty and the bathroom, also empty. He wasn’t here. Throwing the window open, cold air stinging his bare chest, Combeferre looked out on the balcony, maybe he had slipped? But no, the fire escape and the courtyard were empty. Shutting the window quietly, he went to check the hall and, honestly, it was a little like one of Jehan’s movies, phantom voices with no other living soul around. This is what he got for sleeping in. 

There was a sudden, sharp sound of furniture scraping against hardwood floors overhead and he glanced to the ceiling, a thought slowly forming in his mind. 

The only place Enjolras could be was…upstairs. But if he was upstairs, why hadn’t he ever said anything. Combeferre had told him it felt like he was never here. That he was lucky for being out of the house most of the time. Well, the reason it felt like he was never there was because he was never there. 

Combeferre went back into his bedroom to retrieve his phone to text Enjolras, just to be sure. And because he was annoyed.

Combeferre (10:47 AM): Hey, where are you?

Enjolras (10:50 AM): Meeting with my advisor. Are you home already?

Combeferre (10:51 AM): No just wondering. I need to talk with you later. 

Enjolras (10:53 AM): k

Combeferre almost demanded photographic proof of his location because he had been absolutely certain. At the same time it made no sense why Enjolras would keep mum about this. It wasn’t anything to be ashamed about. Or at least, it wasn’t so embarrassing the first time. Now Combeferre could understand why Enjolras wouldn’t say anything. The others had jokes, running bets. Combeferre tapped his foot on the floor; he had really fucked this up. He had alienated his best friend entirely by accident. He needed to find a way to fix this. 

As if in agreement, or just ironic timing, there was a heavy thud from upstairs and Combeferre shot to his feet and went to his closet. 

The most pressing matter was that he needed to hear his best friend have sex even less than some nameless stranger. It didn’t matter if he wasn’t a hundred percent sure it was actually him. It looked like he was going jogging after all. 

* 

By six that evening Combeferre still hadn’t seen Enjolras. Presumably he had been home while Combeferre had class but by the time Combeferre returned for dinner, he was long gone. There went his plans to talk to him before the meeting. Maybe it was better this way, he could watch Enjolras throughout the meeting, gage if something was going on with him and then on the way home they could stop and pick up some pastries, just in case Combeferre had something to apologize for. And he could get Courfeyrac’s input. Combeferre sat on the couch, reading one of his psychiatry textbooks when Courfeyrac texted him, all in caps, “I’M COMING UP THE STAIRS. IMPORTANT.” Putting the book down with a sigh, Combeferre just headed into the kitchen to make a coffee. There was a tiny voice in the back of his mind that said maybe this was about the other night and the way they woke tangled in each other, Courfeyrac’s matter-of-fact tone as he told him they should be making out. Did he really think that or was it just the alcohol talking? There were a million things Courfeyrac deemed important though and Combeferre was sure waking up too close to his best friend wasn’t one of them. For Christ’s sake, it wasn’t even like they had never made out before. When you were friends as long as they had been the occasional drunken make out session just sort of happened. But then Combeferre couldn’t shake the feeling those kisses were something completely different from what he wanted now. 

Shit, he wanted to kiss Courfeyrac in a completely non-platonic way. How long had that been true?

Before he could think himself into a completely unhelpful state, Courfeyrac threw open the door and all but marched into the living room, sitting down on the couch like he was ready to throw out battle plans. “Enjolras isn’t here, right?”

Combeferre poked his head out from the kitchen, only slightly concerned by his friend’s sharp tone. “No, he left already, I think he had to pick up—“

Waving him off, Courfeyrac just continued to plow on. “I don’t care. Come here. Sit down. We need to talk about something.” 

Combeferre resolutely ignored the faint blush that appeared on his cheeks and instead nodded, sitting down next to his best friend. “I have to tell you something as well.” Combeferre confessed. Whether it be the change in his feelings or the morning’s maybe-revelation about Enjolras was entirely up to what Courfeyrac said next. Courfeyrac momentarily paused and then put his hands together and squared his shoulders. 

“I think Grantaire’s fucking your neighbor upstairs.” Courfeyrac’s voice was carefully serious and Combeferre’s mouth dropped open and the noise he made could only be described as a squeak. 

An honest to God squeak. Like a rusty swing set or the brakes on a bike. 

Combeferre shut his mouth and rubbed the back of his neck. Courfeyrac raised his eyebrow and stared at him. “What?”

“I was about to tell you I think Enjolras is having sex with our neighbor.” All thoughts of the warmth of that night were gone. They were best friends. Nothing more.

“What?” Courfeyrac’s entire face scrunched up in confusion but then realization stuck him all at once, “Wait, are you saying that Enjolras and Grantaire are sleeping with the same person?”

Combeferre tilted his head to the right, “Actually I thought you meant that they were sleeping together but—“

“But what about who owns the apartment!” Courfeyrac suddenly clutched at his chest, “Jesus Christ—are they having a threesome? Holy shit.” 

“I don’t think they’re having a threesome.” Placing his hands on Courfeyrac’s arms to try to placate him, Combeferre couldn’t help the smile creeping up onto his face. 

Courfeyrac leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees and rested two fingers on his lips, deep in concentration. “Maybe someone’s letting them use the apartment?”

“What?” Combeferre laughed and Courfeyrac puffed up offended. 

“People are weird!”

“But—“

“Just trust me okay. People do things that may seem strange to us but seem perfectly reasonable to them.” 

Combeferre let him have a moment before speaking in a careful tone, “How are we going to fix this?”

“Well, first we have to make sure we know what we have to fix. We don’t want to ruin things further.” 

“So, we’re not going to talk to him tonight?”

“No, we need to tread carefully.”

“But I think that we need to deal with this as effectively as possible.” 

Courfeyrac leaned back, “But the most effective way may not be the quickest.”

Combeferre didn’t respond, he still thought that they should talk with Enjolras—and now Grantaire for that matter. But things between them were rocky at the best of times. Combeferre was loathe to make it worse. He’d see where they stood and then decide how to act from there. If they even had to act. He was so used to everyone meddling in everyone’s business that he sometimes forgot they were all adults and could sort things out for themselves. 

Combeferre began to stand as Courfeyrac broke the silence, “If Enjolras did porn, he’d tell us right?”

Combeferre’s entire body lurched, his shin collided with the table and the whole cheap thing just flipped over onto its side. Courfeyrac leaned away, thoroughly taken aback at the sudden violence. Combeferre sighed wearily, shutting his eyes as he sank back onto the couch. “Where did that come from?”

“You know my theory was porn. At first I thought, well, obviously I was wrong but then I thought what if I’m not.”

“Courfeyrac.”

“No hear me out.” 

“I don’t think I want to.” Combeferre got off the couch and started to clean up the mess from the flipped table. Enjolras had insisted they didn’t waste their money on unimportant things but maybe they should invest in something that doesn’t topple over as easily. It was a wonder one of the others hadn’t completely destroyed it yet. 

“We don’t keep secrets!” Courfeyrac blurted out after an impressive twenty seconds of silence. Combeferre resolutely avoided making eye contact because that wasn’t quite true, he’d been keeping a secret from Courfeyrac for months and he knew he would sense the fact if he so much as glanced in his direction now. That night had only made it more intolerable. 

Instead of catching on to his friend’s guilt, Courfeyrac continued to bemoan Enjolras’ apparent betrayal. “I mean, yes we’re going to tease him but that’s no reason to be sneaking around like this. He doesn’t have to. He knows us. We tell each other everything. I told you both about mess that was the entirety of the Pierre debacle. I still think he told us the instant he realized he was gay. I figured out I was pan by talking it out with you two!” Courfeyrac gave a great weary sigh and leaned back. “But I’m sure Enjolras has his reasons and of course I’ll never say any of this to him this way. I just…he should feel he’s able to talk to us and I’m worried we’ve done something to prevent it.” 

“We shouldn’t leap to conclusions. We’re not even sure it was him.” 

“If you said you thought it was then I believe you.”

“I might have been mistaken. We shouldn’t leap to conclusions like this. Especially illogical ones.” 

“You’re right. You’re always right.” Courfeyrac sighed and the pair lapsed into silence again. “Oh before I forget, our precious little Christmas tree topper gave us some condoms again. Here we can split them 50/50, they’re tuxedo ones. Are they cute?” Without waiting for him to respond, Courfeyrac dropped a few condoms into Combeferre’s lap and quickly stood up. “Well alright, I just wanted to have this talk with you before we head out to the meeting tonight. Is it alright if I raid your kitchen? I’m fucking starving. Do you want something?” After he disappeared into the kitchen, Courfeyrac was quiet for a minute as Combeferre sat there thinking if he really walked around all day with a pocket full of novelty condoms before he added, “Oh cool you have Thai leftovers we’ll split.” 

* 

Les Amis operated like this: every other week there were meetings that were open to everyone and their grandmother. The weeks in between were for the leaders, core members, co-dependent best friends, whatever you wanted to call them. Eight times out of ten they actually got work done, a fact that never ceased to impress Jehan. 

This week, however, didn’t appear promising. Jehan thought he was running fifteen minutes late but when he got there, Enjolras and Grantaire were just taking their coats off and Combeferre and Courfeyrac were nowhere in sight. 

Jehan took a seat next to Marius wondering if Enjolras and Grantaire arrived at the same time or if one was just slow at removing his coat. Almost instantly Combeferre opened the door and Courfeyrac all but shoved him aside, “Move. I need to see how he sits.” Combeferre stumbled into Jehan, nearly knocking him from his chair. 

“Jesus Christ, Courfeyrac.” Combeferre sighed as he and Bossuet caught Jehan and straightened him out. “Thanks.” He smiled and Combeferre ruffled his hair. 

“Is everyone here?” Enjolras asked from the middle of the room. 

“Joly and Chetta’ll be right back—“ Bossuet began to explain but the door opened again and the two in question appeared. 

Joly waggled his eyebrows at Combeferre as he walked by on Musichetta’s arm and Combeferre just rolled his eyes, “Don’t you have more important things to spend your money on?”

“My friend’s safety is very important, thank you very much.” 

“You know what I mean.”

“No I don’t think I do.” Jehan watched the others all find seats, and Joly and Musichetta went over by the windows, Combeferre and Courfeyrac took their usual spots near Enjolras, although Courfeyrac apparently decided to forgo the chair and sit right on the table next to where Grantaire stood. Grantaire crossed his arms at whatever Courfeyrac was saying and nudged Enjolras’ shoulders with his hip. 

“Joly and I are fighting.” Bossuet announced almost cheerfully, a fond smile on his face as he watched his boyfriend across the room talking animatedly to Cosette and Eponine. 

“What happened?”

“Nothing, I just did something. He’ll forgive me soon though.”

Jehan smiled and shook his head, Grantaire was headed in their direction now, glancing over his shoulder to Joly who waved him on his way. He had missed the exchange but Grantaire filled in the blanks when he sank into the seat next to Bossuet. “Why’s Joly not talking to me?”

“He’s mad at you too?” Jehan asked. 

“Who else is he mad at?”

“Bossuet.”

“Why the shit is he mad at Bossuet?” he asked, turning to the man in question.

Before he could reply, Jehan did so for him. “He said he did something. So. What did you two do?”

“I…actually don’t know. I should get to the bottom of this, hold on.” 

He didn’t need to, Courfeyrac apparently overhead the conversation from the next table over and called over to him instead, “Hey Holly Joly, why the shit aren’t you talking to your besties?”

Next to Joly, Combeferre snorted and Joly elbowed him sharply. Cosette covered her mouth to hide her laughter and Combeferre resolutely pretended not to blush. 

“They know why.” Joly just called back. 

“Actually, I really don’t.”

“Listen to your heart, Grantaire.” 

“My heart’s wondering why I’m friends with you.”

“You wound me.” Joly cried dramatically. Musichetta rolled her eyes and smiled as she wrapped her arms around Joly’s shoulders. 

Courfeyrac hopped off the table and went to sit nearly in Combeferre’s lap, taking quietly to him. Cosette and Eponine shared an amused glance but then Cosette glanced out the window and pointed to something down on the street. From what Jehan could overhear there was a cute girl she was trying to point out to Eponine. 

“Combeferre and Courfeyrac are being weird.” He commented lightly. 

Marius’ lips turned down in worry. “Do you think something happened?” 

Bossuet on the other hand was all too ready for gossip, “They keep glancing over to Enjolras. Do you think they’re trying to figure out how to tell him their trio’s down to two.” 

“Oh no, poor Enjolras.” Jehan placed a hand on his chest and looked to Enjolras forlornly. Enjolras glanced up to him and he looked back to Marius sharply, hands darting under the table. 

“Grantaire, now’s the perfect time to swoop in.”

“What do you mean by that?” Marius scrunched up his nose as Grantaire rolled his eyes fondly. 

“Oh my god, Pontmercy, are you seriously serious right now?”

“I’m honestly honest.” Marius protested, a little desperately. 

From the corner of his eye, Grantaire looked like he nearly slipped from his chair but before he could comment, Enjolras appeared. “Do I even want to know what you’re all gossiping about?”

“Grantaire.” Bossuet hissed and nodded towards Enjolras. 

“You’re gossiping about Grantaire.” He continued in the same flat tone. 

Grantaire languidly pushed himself to his feet, “Caught us. Come on. I want to show you something downstairs.” 

“I swear to god…” Enjolras began threateningly but followed Grantaire out the door. 

Bossuet sighed as he watched them go, “Poor sweet summer child, he doesn’t yet know his trio’s down to two.”

“You know that loses its impact the more times you—“

“What do you mean our trio’s down to two?” Courfeyrac looked at all of them, equal parts offended and alarmed before he stormed out of the room. 

“I swear to god, he’s going to have empty nest syndrome when Enjolras moves out and he doesn’t even live there.” 

“Combeferre, I don’t know if you’ve realized but he has a toothbrush and a couple of drawers.” 

“And neither of you like strawberry ice cream.” 

“We don’t like Doritos either.” Combeferre pointedly looked to Bossuet. He was alone at his table now, his friends having abandoned him. Cosette’s feet were on the chair next to him and whatever papers Eponine had were probably going to spill over onto his table any moment. “Are we going to discuss the fair tonight or…?”

“See, that all depends on if Enjolras and Grantaire come back.” 

“It’s still two weeks away, we can talk about it Friday and at the general population meeting next Wednesday.” 

“Thursday. Monthly meeting are on Thursday.” 

“I see you all too often, I can’t be expected to get the days right all the time.” 

* 

Enjolras didn’t know where things went wrong. They were in the middle of a nice evening when things just went…bad. He couldn’t pinpoint a moment, not a word or a phrase or a look. Suddenly things were just bad. Grantaire turned to Enjolras in his living room and groaned, “Come on, E, what else are friends with benefits for?”

“We’re a little too personal for just friends with benefits.” 

“Good friends with good benefits?” Grantaire offered in what he probably thought was a helpful tone but all it did was make Enjolras want to shake him. He didn’t get it. 

“We’re not though. It—“

“We’re not what? Friends?” Grantaire snapped. 

Enjolras was swiftly losing control of everything. “No—I—Sit down.” He ordered, which made Grantaire’s shoulders tense. 

“I’m not sitting if you’re going to pace.” He could physically feel control slipping away from him the more guarded Grantaire looked. 

Enjolras sat on the couch and Grantaire gingerly copied him a moment later. Enjolras studied his face for a moment but then he shot back to his feet and resumed his pacing. Grantaire sighed and leaned back. He couldn’t handle the defense set of Grantaire’s lips. This wasn’t what he meant at all. If he could just pin point what went wrong… 

“What I meant is that I think we should…stop doing this?” Enjolras ended his sentence with a question because Grantaire had thrown his arms into the air and then stood, shoulders set into an angry line. 

“Oh so you just—poof and all this is over like it never happened?” Enjolras opened his mouth but Grantaire continued on, “No. No you don’t get to be the only one to decide things. You don’t get to come into my home, fuck me and then say you know what, you’re not good enough anymore.”

“Of course you—“ Enjolras spat but he didn’t even know if Grantaire was listening. 

“I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t think this was a good idea.”

“It was your idea to keep it casual.”

“No, Enjolras it was your idea.”

“Don’t be fucking absurd.” Because it hadn’t been. It had been Grantaire who was uncomfortable with the others knowing. 

“I think you should go.” 

Enjolras flinched, “If you’re not going to listen maybe I should.” Enjolras stalked to the end of the hall. He didn’t have his keys on him and so the only way he was getting in the apartment was though the window. Grantaire followed after him, “I’m not listening? I’m not listening. You don’t even hear yourself right now.” 

Enjolras turned to the window and wrenched it open. Grantaire immediately stormed over to him, “No you’re fucking not. The entire thing is a sheet of ice, you’ll slip and fall to your death.” Enjolras ignored him and Grantaire grabbed his arm. Enjolras grabbed a handful of snow from the ledge and threw it in Grantaire’s face. “Oh that’s real mature.” Grantaire snapped as Enjolras tore across the living room and out of the front door. He slammed it shut behind him and Grantaire echoed the noise by smashing the window shut a moment later. The sound chased Enjolras down the hall. 

* 

“Hold the door!” 

Grantaire’s stomach dropped and he jammed the close door button even as Bahorel threw himself into the elevator. “Thanks.” He sighed and then straightened himself out. He glanced over and his eyes went wide, “Grantaire! I didn’t know you were hanging out at Combeferre and Enjolras’ too.”

“Surprise.” He weakly cheered. The last thing he wanted to do right now was see Enjolras but what other option did he have. He had only managed to escape Bahorel last time because he had been wasted. It’d be way too suspicious if he went oh wait I’ve changed my mind now. And according to both Combeferre and Enjolras, Bahorel had been several shades shy of devastated when he lost him on the elevator. He couldn’t put him through that again. Bahorel was the inverse of Jehan; tough on the outside with a soft core. 

“Feuilly mentioned pizza before.”

“Great, I’m starving.” 

“Look at who I found in the elevator!”

“Oh, hey, Grantaire.” Feuilly waved from where he was sprawled out on the couch with a steaming mug in his hands. He looked three different kinds of exhausted. Grantaire felt him. 

“I didn’t know you were coming over today.” Combeferre didn’t look up from his phone and Grantaire sent Enjolras a warning glance. 

“He was supposed to tell you.”

“Oh shoot, must have forgotten.” It wasn’t possible for someone to sound like they cared so little. Which, really, was ironic considering that’s what he said to him most of the time. 

“Are you two fighting again.” Feuilly took a sip of his drink, and he looked between them as if gaging if it was even worth it. Grantaire tried to telepathically signal that it wasn’t. 

“Don’t think I’m not above locking you in a closet until you deal with it.” Bahorel and Combeferre glanced to each other and so Grantaire took the chance to suggestively raise his eyebrows at Enjolras. So what if they were in a middle of a fight and the whole thing was probably dead in the water? Was he supposed to let the opportunity pass him?

Enjolras pinched the bridge of his nose, but the corner of his mouth twitched in what might have been a suppressed smile, thank fuck, “Can you not?”

Oblivious, Bahorel laughed, “This had been going on for too long, the only reason Joly isn’t all over this is because he has his hands full with the other two.”

“What other two?” Combeferre asked, genuinely confused. 

Feuilly raised his eyebrow as he looked at him and then looked to Grantaire, shaking his head. 

Combeferre’s face, however, drained of color. “Bahorel don’t. You’re mistaken. Don’t do anything. That’s completely ridiculous.” 

“’ferre, you’re alright.” Enjolras reassured him quietly, “Bahorel isn’t going to do anything.”

Bahorel just looked to Enjolras and the blond narrowed his eyes. As the two proceeded to enter into a staring contest, Feuilly took over because Grantaire was not going to deal with an in-denial Combeferre. He had be the recipient of too many of Courfeyrac’s drunken confessions about how he might feel a little bit more than platonic about one of his best friends. Every time he acted as if he hadn’t admitted it to Grantaire before. He was starting to think it was possible Courfeyrac had selective memory repression and maybe they should look into why this was stressing him out so much. Plus something had happened the other night. He didn’t know what or to what degree but something had happened after they went into Combeferre’s room. A drunken confession? Kiss? Awkward boner? Who the hell knew. Grantaire laid himself out on the couch and Enjolras glanced to him, head tilted in silent question. Lazily, Grantaire lifted his hand and mimicked the swoop of a paintbrush. The blond winced and then held up his hands to indicate ten minutes. 

“Ten minutes what?” Combeferre asked, catching both Bahorel and Feuilly’s attention. 

“Until pizza, or so he promises.” Grantaire threw out with a wink when Enjolras’ face went immediately blank. As soon the words left his mouth the buzzer went off and Bahorel threw himself from the couch to get the door. “Even gods have to be wrong sometime.” 

With a sigh that probably should have been an insult to pizza but Grantaire really just didn’t care, he sat up on the couch waited for Bahorel to stop exchanging pleasantries with the delivery boy who he apparently knew. Or, who they both knew actually. What was their name? Kevin? 

Maybe-Kevin chose that moment to glace into the apartment and call out, “Oh hey, Grantaire!”

Grantaire gave a half wave an then turned away. Combeferre and Feuilly were both smiling but Enjolras looked exasperated. “Do you know everyone in Paris?”

“Paris, Lille, Rome and oddly enough Topeka, Kansas in the United States.”

“When have you been to the United States?” Bahorel demanded as he shut the door (hopefully) not in Maybe-Kevin’s face. 

Grantaire snagged a slice of pizza as Bahorel pushed him aside to sit on the couch and so his response was around a mouthful of cheese, “Mum lived there a few years when I was a kid? Went to school there for a year or two. Don’t really remember it.” He swallowed thickly, “Only thing I really remember is _la cabeza, la cabeza_ ”. The others just stared at Grantaire as he half-sang and he just shrugged, “You had to be there.” 

“I’m not even going near that.” Feuilly reached for a second piece of pizza even as he chewed on the crust of his first. 

“Is that why you can speak English so well?”

Grantaire shrugged, “Mum spoke English, my grandparents only spoke Italian, growing up multi-lingual was a necessity.” 

“That’s impressive.” Enjolras picked at his pizza, there was a bead of oil running down his arm but he hadn’t noticed yet. Grantaire pointed it out as he sprawled out on the couch, feet on Bahorel and Enjolras scrambled to wipe it before it reached his pushed back sleeves. He didn’t know what to make of the blush on the blonde’s cheeks. He didn’t know what to make of a lot of things anymore. 

Feuilly reached for another piece and Combeferre just pushed the box towards him. “Did you know Marius is trying to teach Cosette Italian, maybe you could help?”

“Why’s he doing that?” Bahorel dug his boney elbows into Grantaire’s calves but he was too tired to give a shit about it. 

“They’re thinking about honeymooning in Venice.” 

“Are they engaged?” Enjolras asked suddenly, looking from Combeferre to Grantaire for an explanation. 

“Not in any official sense.”

“How can you be unofficially engaged?” Bahorel asked but Grantaire missed the answer to that riveting question. He must have fallen asleep because the next thing he heard was Combeferre and Feuilly talking business. 

“If we hold it in front of the library, there’d be a larger student presence.” 

“That reminds me, I have a better speaker for next month’s rally.” 

Bahorel flinched at Grantaire’s sudden words but didn’t stop leaning on his legs. “Oh, you’re awake.” 

“I should probably get going, actually.” he groaned, sitting up. 

“I’ll walk you home.” 

No sooner had the door shut then Enjolras turned to Grantaire, “What do you mean you have a better idea for a speaker?”

“Will you shut up? It’s like you want them to hear you.” 

“What’s wrong with me asking about you thinking you have a better idea for a speaker?”

Grantaire rubbed his face as he headed towards the elevator. He ignored Enjolras’ glare at using it when they only had to go up one flight in favor of responding, “I’m fucking exhausted.”

Enjolras was silent as they stepped into the elevator and he pressed the button finally he mumbled, “Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault Bahorel happed to catch me in here. Anyway, your couch is comfortable enough.” 

“Yeah?”

“I mean, not as comfortable as your bed but a man takes what he can get.”

From the corner of his eye, he could see Enjolras’ tiny smile and pushed past him out of the elevator, fishing the keys out of his pocket. Enjolras was acting like everything was fine. Well, he had gotten quiet but that wasn’t new, he was prone to frequent bouts of silence. You had to, with friends like theirs. 

Once Grantaire got the door opened (which took longer than he’d admit), he turned around in the doorway and all but draped himself on the frame, “So are we not fighting anymore or…?”

Enjolras regarded him with an even expression, “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow tomorrow or metaphorically tomorrow actually never?”

Enjolras paused and glanced down at his phone, “Three o’clock. Make lunch.”

“Use the door.” 

“The ice melted.”

“Use the door.” And he leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the corner of his mouth. Enjolras looked like he wanted to say something but he just turned and walked back down the hall. Grantaire watched after him, bemused. 

“Send your parents my love.” Combeferre called from inside the apartment as Bahorel went to shut the door behind him. He paused, wry smile on his face. 

“Isn’t it a little early to be trying for extra Christmas cookies?”

Combeferre’s response was a muffled laugh and Bahorel rolled his eyes, shutting the door and hurrying to the end of the hall. Feuilly had promised to give him a lift home but then Bahorel got distracted leaving and if the bastard had left him here they were going to have serious words later. He jammed the button for the elevator several times, smiling to himself over how much his friends adored having his parents dote on them. It was nice that their kindness was appreciated. Bahorel’s smile froze as Enjolras appeared at the other end of the hall coming out from the stairs, his jacket conspicuously missing. Enjolras had a bizarre look on his face, something soft and open Bahorel couldn’t exactly place. The elevator doors opened and Bahorel slipped inside, Enjolras was too lost in his thoughts to notice him as he walked back to his apartment.

As the doors shut, Bahorel got one last look of Enjolras biting his lip and glancing back up to the stairs and he spent the rest of the ride down trying to process what he had just seen. He looked fucking love-struck. 

* 

At three o’clock exactly the following afternoon there was a knock on Grantaire’s door. 

He didn’t hear it. 

A tiny radio was playing in the kitchen as he stirred soup while checking on the bread in the oven. 

“Did you make bread?”

Flinching so dramatically the radio was knocked into the sink, Grantaire dropped the wooden spoon into the pot, let the oven door slam shut and spun around to face Enjolras standing in the doorway to the kitchen. Grantaire wasn’t sure how to classify the expression on Enjolras’ face, it was somewhere between nervous, amused and the always present, angry.

“Don’t be stupid, I bought it. It’s just in the oven to warm up. The soup, however, is homemade.”

They ate lunch in silence, both wary of the small truce they currently had and how close they were to throwing themselves off the edge of a cliff they couldn’t climb back up from. When they were done Enjolras took their plates and placed them in the sink before turning around, Grantaire saw his white knuckles gripping the counter and selfishly he glanced to him and suggested, “Maybe we should have this talk somewhere else.” Enjolras nodded and went into the living room but when he saw all the laundry Grantaire had spread about he turned back to him. Grantaire tipped his head towards the hall, “Bedroom?” Enjolras lips were pressed into a thin line but followed him down the hall. 

Grantaire sat heavily down onto his bed, bouncing a bit and Enjolras came to stand in front of him, a little too close, arms crossed. “I don’t want to stop this.” He said evenly. 

Because Grantaire was a little shit, he leaned back and airily asked, “Stop what?”

Enjolras glared at him but uncrossed his arms, placed his hands on Grantaire’s shoulders, and kissed him. It hurt. They had to stop doing this. Enjolras was obviously unhappy in this arrangement and it wasn’t right to either of them to cling to it when they both wanted something the other couldn’t give them. It wasn’t healthy and if Enjolras wasn’t going to do something about this then Grantaire was. 

Pulling away, Grantaire placed a hand on Enjolras’ chest. Enjolras shut his eyes like it pained him and shook his head, “Don’t.” he begged and Grantaire’s resolve was immediately shot to hell. 

“I don’t want to stop this either. I want more.” Grantaire confessed and Enjolras kissed him hard, pushing him down onto the bed and climbing on top of him, hands greedily pulling off his shirt. Enjolras pulled away so that he could throw the shirt onto the floor and take off his own and Grantaire titled his head back, allowing Enjolras to kiss his neck. His hands found his hips and he pulled him close, grinding their hips together. It was an awkward angle but if this was what Enjolras thought he meant by wanting more…if this was what Enjolras wanted. Once more. Once more and then Grantaire would break it off for both of their sakes. 

“You good?” Grantaire asked several moments later and Enjolras nodded beneath him, eyes shut. Grantaire watched him evenly, the creases around his eyes and his chest steadily rising and falling. Enjolras rolled his hips ever so slightly and Grantaire echoed the motion as he started to move again. 

Enjolras gasped and his grip on Grantaire’s thighs tightened, “I think we should date.” Grantaire froze again and Enjolras whined, “No—don’t—move.”

“You—“

“Pretend I didn’t say anything just—after—alright? We’ll talk after.”

Enjolras laced their fingers together over his head, Grantaire gripped them tight as he rested his forehead against Enjolras. Enjolras thrust himself up, desperate for more and came gasping into Grantaire’s mouth. Grantaire came a moment later, riding out the waves of pleasure with Enjolras’ breath on his ear. He was desperate to remember the overwhelming feeling of Enjolras. 

Grantaire carefully pulled away and got rid of the condoms before he flopped down on his back, exhausted. Enjolras pulled the blanket up over them and then wrapped his arms around Grantaire who rolled onto his side to face him. “What did you mean?” Grantaire asked into his shoulder. 

“I’ve just been thinking and—what do you think about us dating?”

“You want to date?” Grantaire wanted to laugh because now they were on the same page? Had they actually been on the same page all along? Was this a recent development?

“This is good and I’m running out of reasons as to why we shouldn’t.” 

“You want to date me? Not just fuck me.”

Enjolras looked at him evenly, “Yes.” 

Grantaire rolled over onto his back and when he spoke next, his voice was a lighter tone, “Can I think about it?”

“Yes. Don’t feel pressured to—“

Grantaire laughed and Enjolras startled, “Shut up you fucking idiot. Of course I don’t need to think about it.” He rolled over, found Enjolras’ lips and kissed him. After a moment, Grantaire pulled away and looked Enjolras in the eye. “If we’re really going to do this, we need to be absolutely clear with each other.”

“I agree. We have to stop assuming to know what the other’s thinking because we’re probably wrong.”

“Probably.” Grantaire laughed, “I was going to tell you that we should break this off because I couldn’t do friends with benefits any longer.”

Enjolras lifted his head to stare at him with an expression Grantaire couldn’t quite place, it was somewhere between disbelief and hurt with a little bit of amusement. His head dropped back onto the pillow with a sigh. 

Grantaire caught his eyes, serious. “I don’t want to keep this secret.”

“I don’t either. It’s just that—“

“We can own it. Bossuet didn’t care. The one I’m most worried about is—“

“Courfeyrac.” Enjolras groaned into Grantaire’s shoulder. 

“He needs to just fuck Combeferre and—“

“They need to talk it out. Look what happened with us.”

“We worked out.”

Enjolras sent Grantaire an even look and he smiled cheekily in response. Enjolras rested his head against Grantaire’s chest, grumbling to himself in a way that Grantaire would classify as fucking adorable. He wrapped his arms around him and laughed because this all certainly could have gone worse. 

* 

In an uncanny detour from the norm, the weather the next morning decided to resemble more spring then the winter it was. Snow was on the ground but Cosette had the window in the kitchen open and the radio on. Enjolras seemed off this week, he could use some cheering up. And she knew just the way to do it. 

Knocking on the door, Cosette glanced down to the burn mark just above the knob. She hadn’t the faintest how it got there, one day it just was. She thought it had something to do with the strip poker game Bossuet and Bahorel had instigated ages ago. Combeferre and Marius had lost amazingly and she had never seen Courfeyrac so flustered. It had been cute. She still had some pictures on her phone of him hiding out in Enjolras’ room with Eponine. 

“Enjolras?” she called out, knocking again, firmer this time. Enjolras didn’t have classes this early; he should be home. Testing the doorknob, she found it unlocked and shouldered the door open, keeping her muffin tray balanced protectively against her chest. They’d survive a tumble but it was a matter of presentation. No one actually wanted crumbly muffins. “Enjolras? Hello?” she called out again but there still wasn’t a response. Oh well, maybe he ran out for breakfast or something? Coffee maybe? She’s just leave the muffins and call him later. 

Cosette had just placed the muffins down on the table when voices from outside drifted in through the window. She turned, listening, hands still on the container. 

“Yeah, but Enjolras, what happens if he just stumbles upon him one day? Wouldn’t he be honor bound to kill him no matter what bullshit he said before?”

Picking up the muffins, Cosette walked over to the open window. There was no one on the fire escape so she leaned out and looked up. Enjolras and Grantaire stood above her, Grantaire sitting on the steps, Enjolras on the balcony. Carefully, she climbed out as Enjolras explained that no he vowed never to harm him no matter what. 

“Guys,” she called, taking a step up, “I brought muffins if you what them?”

Above her, Enjolras flinched and jumped to his feet as if he was going to hide inside the upstairs apartment. Grantaire just looked down at her, “Muffins?”

Cosette took that as her cue to climb the stairs until she was standing in front of Grantaire. She held them out and he took them, “They’re lemon poppy seed, Enjolras’ favorite.” She smiled and then bit her lip at the sight of their hesitation, “Sorry, am I interrupting? I can go. Pretend this never happened.”

“Nah stay a while, I’ll give you a tour inside if you want.” Grantaire patted the seat next to him which Cosette took, leaning against the brick wall so that her back wasn’t to Enjolras. 

“A tour inside?”

“Yeah, I was going to tell everyone that I moved but then Combeferre mentioned the sex and we didn’t want everyone to know about our relationship yet because back then it was kinda—“

“If you say friends with benefits I’m going to—“ Enjolras interrupted sharply. 

“What Enjolras said. So I just…didn’t mention I moved out.” 

“Well I won’t say anything and you don’t have to—“

“No, it’s alright, Cosette. We’re dating.” 

“Since last night actually.” Grantaire added with a smile. 

Cosette gasped and covered her mouth with her hand, giggling. “I’m so happy for you two! It took you two long enough. When are you going to tell the others?”

Enjolras immediately blushed. 

Cosette gasped again and her smiled faded, “Oh my gosh, that’s right! They all have bets on Loud Sex Apartment.”

“Could you maybe say it without the capitols?”

A smiled appeared on her lips again and both Enjolras and Grantaire echoed it. “Sorry! Is it alright if I sneak back up here sometime next week with a house warming gift?”

“If it’s macaroons then—“

“You should bribe us with them so we don’t put off tell everyone indefinitely.” Grantaire interrupted smoothly, earning himself a glare. 

“I’m going to text everyone right now then.” Enjolras threatened, opening the container of muffins and pulling one out for himself. He offered one to Cosette but not Grantaire who held out a hand anyway.

Begrudgingly, Enjolras tossed him one that Grantaire smoothly caught, much to his chagrin. 

* 

Jehan frowned as he watched the people pass by from where he was sat on a bench, a small cactus in his arms. He had just come from Grantaire’s apartment where the landlord told him that Grantaire had moved out like a week ago. There were a lot of aspects in life that didn’t make sense, but right now this topped it. He knew he had been distracted with his girlfriend moving back to Paris and everything that went with it but still he didn’t know how he could miss something as big as one of his friends moving. 

“Jehan, what are you doing?” 

The redhead looked up to see Joly squinting down at him in the bright sunlight. Jehan reached into his pocket and pulled out a spare pair of sunglasses that Joly didn’t even bother to question as he put them on. Jehan patted the seat next to him, “Did you know that Grantaire no longer lives above the record store? I hope he isn’t as homeless as this poor cactus.”

Joly immediately sat down, “I know where that cactus can live.”

He offered him a small smile that quickly faded, “I can’t believe Grantaire moved out without telling us. But he told you right?”

Joly’s smile was borderline maniacal, “No he didn’t.” 

“What’s with your face? Are you going to murder him in retaliation?”

“Better than that!” Joly grabbed his hand and didn’t let go until he was dragging onto Combeferre and Enjolras’ street. An elderly woman waved to them as they passed and they both smiled back. 

“Here we are.”

“We’re going to Combeferre and Enjolras’?” Jehan cradled the cactus in his hands while Joly lead him up the stairs. 

“Something like that.” 

Combeferre opened the door and Joly barreled past him, “Hi, don’t mind us, we’re just going to water your plants.” 

“We are?” Jehan asked and Joly turned back around to grab him, glaring at him threateningly. He was still wearing sunglasses so the effect missed the point so completely that it fell rather close to ‘adorable’. 

“Just don’t destroy anything okay? I have a paper due Monday so I’ll be in my room if you need anything.” 

“Joly where are we going?” Jehan whispered, despite the fact Combeferre had already gone into his room. Instead of answering, he just waved him along and when he wrenched the window open, Jehan narrowed his eyes. If they were headed where he thought they were headed, he was going to kill him. Joly was half his height, he could take him. With a little hop onto the windowcil, because apparently Joly’s pants were too tight today to step up and out the window, Joly swung his legs over the ledge and then slid onto the fire escape. Jehan threw one last glance over his shoulder and then followed Joly out onto the balcony, “We’re going to put it with the snowdrops, right?”

“Of course not, you know it’ll die in the cold.” Joly tore up the stairs, single-minded in his step. 

“Are we breaking and entering?” 

Joly’s only response was to shoulder the window open. 

Oh wow, so yeah, they were breaking into the apartment. Fucking superb. 

They both climbed into the apartment. If there was anyone inside, they’d head them right away. Joly’s confidence convinced him that he somehow knew it was empty. Jehan wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. 

He only had a moment to glance down the hall towards the living room before Joly pulled him into the first bedroom. 

“Joly we can’t leave a cactus in a strangers bed!” 

No sooner had the words left Jehan’s mouth then the sound of someone opening the door rang through the apartment. Joly and Jehan just stared at each other in horror and then Joly pulled the younger man into the bedroom closet. 

Jehan tried to silently relay just how upset he was with Joly for getting him into this predicament but Joly just put a finger to his lips and tried to couch in his obnoxiously tight pants and not move. Voices sounded in the hall, they were familiar but Jehan really didn’t care about that. How were they going to talk their way out of this? Maybe they should just play it off as natural. Yeah. That’s what they’d do. Just calmly and collectively say hello and then they could just walk back out the window or the front door, he wasn’t set on the particulars. His grip tightened around the cactus’ plastic pot. 

Footsteps sounded coming down the hall and he could see on Joly’s face that he was praying that they didn’t come into the room. Which was cute because this whole thing was his idea. There was a certain level of trust required for following someone unquestionably into a stranger’s apartment and Joly was starting to lose his. 

Apparently the saints don’t listen to people who get themselves into this kind of mess because the door to the room they were hiding in opened and Jehan peaked at who it was through the crack in the door. Enjolras. 

He turned to Joly who just put both his hands over Jehan’s mouth as if he was stupid enough to start talking when they were hiding in a stranger’s apartment. Still, he raised his eyebrows and Joly shook his head. 

Enjolras tripped over a pair of jeans on the floor and muttered under his breath, his words laced with anger, “Artist found dead inside his home, details are sketchy.” 

Almost too late did Jehan slap a hand over Joly’s mouth, the other man’s eyes were wide, his nose scrunched up and he shook with silent laughter. Enjolras fumbled around the room for a moment, obviously looking for something and then left the way he came. Jehan and Joly waited until Enjolras’ footsteps faded and the TV turned on. Someone else was out there with him. 

Answering his unspoken question, Joly leaned forward, careful of the cactus still in Jehan’s hand, “This is Grantaire’s new apartment.” Well, that explained several things at once. 

“What the fuck?” Jehan whispered. “Why didn’t he say anything?” 

“We have bets!”

“Oh no.” Jehan turned to forlornly look out of the crack of the door to Grantaire’s room. Now that Joly had told him, he didn’t know how he hadn’t realized it sooner. His clothes were thrown about the room, his laptop, a giant protest sticker colored in with sharpie stuck on the front, sat on the bed. 

Jehan’s phone vibrated in his pocket and Joly glared at him. The poet pulled it out and looked at the screen, “It’s Combeferre.” He whispered as he unlocked the screen. 

Joly blanched, “Don’t answer it!” 

“Hey.” Jehan whispered and Joly pressed his ear to the wall, presumably so that he could listen into Grantaire and Enjolras’ conversation to see if they heard him. 

“Where did you two go?” Combeferre asked incredulously. 

“Um—we uh—we’re in Enjolras’ room.”

“So am I and you’re not here. Did you climb out the fire escape?”

Joly took his ear away from the wall and whispered into the receiver, “We’re in Narnia.”

“Ooh!” Jehan gasped, “I’d like Forget-Me-Nots at my funeral please!”

“Jehan shut up. Also what does Narnia have to do with funerals?”

Jehan sent him a withered look. “Did you even read the books?”

“Shh!”

“Listen, ‘ferre, we’re a little busy at the current moment so we’ll see you in a bit. Or call you back. One or the other.” Combeferre began to protest but Jehan just hung up, switching the phone to silent before giving Joly a thumbs up. “How do we get out of here?”

“I don’t know but if they start having sex I’m going to run for it and deal with the repercussions later.”

“Why would they be having—Oh my god did Grantaire just moan.” 

“I’m out.” Joly pushed the door open and climbed silently to his feet, beckoning Jehan to follow him. He placed the cactus on the ground between Grantaire’s shoes and scrambled to his feet. Joly placed a finger to his lips and slowly made his way to the doorway. There was no sound coming from the living room now other than the TV but they had already left the safety of the closet. They were committed. 

Joly took a deep breath and crossed himself before he darted out of the room, trying to be as quiet as he could and crept along the wall. It was a good thing the apartment was a mirror image of one they already knew by heart. Jehan chanced a glance over his shoulder as Joly slowly opened and slid out the window but he could only see the back of the couch. He followed after Joly who had a vice grip on his arm and nearly overbalanced him into the grates. 

“I forgot the cactus.” Jehan grabbed Joly’s arm as he shut the window. 

“Leave it.” Joly hissed and all but jumped down the remaining stairs to get to Combeferre’s window. 

Combeferre appeared in the hall just as soon as Joly shut the window behind them. “What are you two up to?”

“We were finding a home for an orphaned cactus.”

“In Narnia. I swear to god if I find a cactus needle anywhere in this apartment that’s not the balcony I’m going to skin the both of you alive.” 

“We promise you don’t need to get out your knives, ferre.”

Combeferre watched the too-sweet smile on Jehan’s face and his expression fell, “Wait—did you leave it on my neighbor’s balcony because—“

Jehan gasped and turned to Joly “We should have left it there with a ball gag and a note that says—“

“Oh god Jehan I don’t want to think about that!”

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Yeah, nothing. Want to go with us to see that new zombie movie?”

“Wait, when are we going to do that?” Joly asked and Jehan narrowed his eyes. 

“Right now.” He warned him. 

Joly’s eyes went wide as he realized what Jehan was doing, “Oh right, let me call Chetta she should be off of work soon.” 

If either of them had looked to Combeferre then, they would have seen that he had seen through their shoddy attempt to play it cool. “I really need to finish this paper. Isn’t everyone coming over in three hours? Didn’t we decide to do Friday Night Movie Night at three this week?”

“Oh shit I actually—“

“How did we forget?”

“Prouvaire.” Joly said with rising desperation. 

Jehan took Joly’s shoulders and gently shook him, “Joly.”

Combeferre pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head, smiling, “Listen I don’t care what you do, go see a movie, stay here, decorate the apartment, I don’t care. Just stay out of trouble please.” 

* 

Combeferre sat next to Cosette who was nursing her second beer already, “I actually have no idea how long Joly and Jehan have been here. They were here at noon and I don’t know if they ever left.”

“And Enjolras?”

Combeferre shrugged, “Dunno. Haven’t seen him since yesterday. I don’t even know if he came home last night. I think he did, I heard someone moving around late but…” he shrugged again and Cosette bit her lip. Her expression quickly morphed into confusion. 

“What’s that noise?” Cosette asked before her eyes went wide and she covered her mouth, “Oh. Oops. Pretend I didn’t just say that please.” 

Combeferre laughed at the blush on his friend’s cheeks and looked to Bossuet who was closet to the stereo. “Can you--?” he began but Bossuet silenced him with a wicked grin and a salute that let a wary feeling in Combeferre’s stomach. 

Joly smiled his up-to-no-fucking-good smile and Bahorel nudged him gently, “I know that look.” Joly tightened his grip around his mug and then slid it back and forth. Bahorel crossed his arms and just waited. Joly’s lips twitched. Bahorel smiled. 

Joly turned to him, voice low, “Alright. It’s just--Don’t tell anyone but Grantaire may or may not be seeing someone.”

“What?” He blurted out, glanced around the room and then lowered his voice, “No seriously, what?” 

“Listen, don’t say anything. He should be the one to tell us when they’re ready but—that’s it.”

“Who is it?”

Joly shrugged and shook his head when Bahorel raised an eyebrow. He fidgeted for a minute before pushing himself up and heading towards the others, leaving Bahorel to his thoughts. 

Grantaire was sneaking upstairs and Enjolras was sneaking down. When they talked about the upstairs apartment, Enjolras left the room and Grantaire was always uncharacteristically silent. They both wore the same soft smiles on their face when they checked their phones. 

Ice shot into his veins. Shit. Grantaire was seeing Upstairs Neighbor who was cheating on him with Enjolras. Shit they were fucked.

A moment later Like A Virgin started playing and Joly and Bossuet clutched each other, both laughing uncontrollably by the stereo. Bahorel opened gaped at the two of them. What the fuck. This wasn’t a laughing matter. 

Cosette moved over to sit with the pair of them and Bahorel didn’t know why he thought she was going to save everything because instead of changing the song, she was soon giggling with them, going through the ipod as if she was searching for a song of her own. 

“Bossuet, Joly do you want to let me in on why Enjolras just texted me asking what I was doing? Weren’t you supposed to make sure they knew we were getting together at three?” Courfeyrac called from where he was twisted up on the couch with Feuilly. 

Absolute panic set into Bossuet’s face and he glanced to Joly before protesting, “He said he was at the library!”

“Did you tell him we were getting together early?”

“Of course.” 

Combeferre stared at him as if he could see straight through to the lie, which he probably did. He could see straight to the heart of things unless it had to do with Courfeyrac or himself. Everyone had to have a tragic shortcoming. 

“What are you doing?” Marius asked, squeezing in between Joly and Cosette as Bossuet tried to smile his way out from under Combeferre’s scrutiny. It was a commendable attempt and he’d go down fighting at least. 

“Serenading upstairs.” Joly responded, dancing in his seat to the music. 

“Come on, pick a song.” Cosette encouraged. 

“Combeferre stop looking at me like that!” Bossuet whined before he buried his face into Joly’s shoulder, “Help!” Joly gathered him in his arm and sent Combeferre a reproachful look. 

Marius flipped through the songs until he let out a little huff of air and leaned back, proud of his choice. Then the song started playing. 

I’m coming up so you better get this party started.

His face went from smugly proud to completely and totally mortified in about half a second. “No!” he yelled, trying to grab the ipod from Bossuet who left Joly’s arms to block him with his body. “No I didn’t mean this!”

“You guys? Have you seen where Jehan went?” Eponine asked. 

Joly and Bossuet both looked to the open window leading out to the fire escape before looking to Marius and waggling their eyebrows. “Get it Prouvaire.” Bossuet smirked and Marius blushed harder. 

“Oh god.” 

* 

Jehan knocked on the window and Grantaire opened it a moment later, towel wrapped around his waist. “What the shit Prouvaire?”

“Oh good, you found the cactus.” As Grantaire stepped away, Jehan climbed in, immediately wrapping his arms around his shoulders to try to warm himself up from the five second journey outside. 

Enjolras leaned on the doorframe, already dressed in a pair of jeans. “I told you it was him.” 

“What were you doing in my apartment with a cactus? Why my closet?”

“Joly wanted to leave it in your bed because he was pissed you didn’t tell him you moved. I didn’t know it was your apartment until Joly and I were hiding in the closet and Enjolras walked in the room.”

“Uh—when was this.”

“A couple hours ago. You and Enjolras were making out on the couch when we made our escape. Did you really not hear us?” 

“Get that look off your face, Prouvaire.” Grantaire laughed before frowning, “You and Joly were in my apartment?”

“It wasn’t my idea. I brought it to your old apartment and then Joly found me and brought me here.” 

“Oh—that’s what Combeferre meant by the two of you being up to something.” 

“If you want I can bring it back down.”

“No way it’s mine.” 

Jehan smiled and leaned against the windowcil, tilting his head to the side at the soft smile Enjolras sent to the brunet. “But I’m here for a reason.” Jehan continued as the song changed to Secret Lovers. “I just wanted to make sure we weren’t being overbearing.”

“No you’re all fine it’s just—“

“We’re us and being in a relationship doesn’t change that.” 

“It was an eventful couple of days.” 

Jehan bit his lip as he tried to find how best to ask without pushing them too far. They had been weird and honestly he didn’t know their limits. “You say relationship?”

Enjolras glanced to Grantaire who was still standing there in a towel like it was a normal thing to do. Regrettably, in their group of friends, it sort of was. “As of yesterday, we’re dating.” 

“What, really?” Jehan blurted out. He had been expecting a confession of some kind of relationship but not quite dating. How much had they missed being worried about Courfeyrac and Combeferre?

Grantaire laughed, “Yeah, really.”

“Who else knows?”

“I think just Joly and Bossuet.” 

“And Cosette. She was here yesterday.” 

“Cosette knows we’re dating. Joly and Bossuet just know we’re sleeping together.” 

“So I’m second?”

“Congratulations.” 

Jehan laughed, blushing a little. “I’m happy for you two. I really am.”

They shared a smile and then Grantaire turned to Enjolras. He grabbed his hips and swayed him side to side slowly, “Secret loves, that’s what we are. Try so hard to hide the way we feel.” He sand along with the song downstairs. Enjolras just shut his eyes and shook his head slowly. 

Laughing, Jehan quickly covered his mouth when Enjolras opened his eyes and raised an eyebrow at him. “Sorry, do you want me to go take control away from Bossuet and Joly?” “Nah, we should get down there anyway.”

“Can’t we just stay up here?” Enjolras sighed. 

“Yeah I didn’t come to get you or anything. I just wanted to make sure you two were alright.” 

Grantaire waved him off, “Let me put pants on, we’re actually planning on telling everyone tonight. We just didn’t know tonight meant now.”

“That’s Joly and Bossuet’s fault.” 

Grantaire ducked into the bedroom and Enjolras stayed in the doorway, “How angry do you think Combeferre and Courfeyrac are going to be with me?”

“Honestly, I think they’re just going to be happy for you. Yeah Joly and Bossuet are mad but it’s only because Grantaire moved. And you know how the three of them are; the line between teasing and seriousness has always been flexible. They’re just going to be relived you finally got your act together and you’re happy. Who knows, maybe this’ll inspire them to be brave and confess how the feel about each other. They’re so scared of ruining everything. Remember when I met you and Combeferre go so jealous of me he avoided Courf for a week?”

Enjolras frowned and Grantaire threw a shirt out at him, a red button down that Enjolras slipped on immediately. Grantaire emerged fully dressed, “Combeferre did what?”

Jehan waved him off, “It was a long time ago. He was afraid he was going to lose him and we all leap to conclusions and have overdramatic moments.” Jehan laughed, shaking his head, “I just wanted to come up here to make sure everything’s fine and to tell you both everything’s going to be okay.” 

Enjolras smiled and wrapped his arms around Jehan in a hug, “Everything’s fine and everything’s going to be okay.” 

Jehan laughed, “Sometimes I get so worried about us.”

Grantaire wrapped his arms around the both of them. Enjolras stiffened, “What are you doing?”

“Shut up I felt left out and Prouvaire’s adorable.” 

Jehan laughed again, “Come on, grab your coats, Enjolras put shoes on. Let’s get to the party and you can make your friend’s day.”

Jehan paused at the door to the apartment, Kiss the Girl was now blaring, “I think they turned their attention to Combeferre and Courfeyrac.”

“Oh good, this is a teasing I can get behind.” Grantaire sighed, which earned him an elbow to the side from Enjolras. 

Overdramatically, Jehan threw open the door, arms wide. “I found Enjolras and Grantaire!”

“Yeah my art thing ended early and I bumped into E on his way home. Prouvaire ambushed us from the fire escape.” 

“Let me go get some shots.” 

“It’s four thirty.”

“So?” Grantaire and Jehan chorused and Bossuet and Joly cheered from the other side of the room. 

Enjolras immediately locked on to the blush on Courfeyrac’s cheeks and the way he was fidgeting and stalked over to perch on the arm of his chair. Grantaire went over to the radio and draped himself over his best friend’s shoulders. 

“Bossuet, you’re unusually sober for four in the afternoon.” 

“That was one time.” 

“I’m just concerned for you.” 

* 

Eponine curled up on the couch next to Feuilly and Bahorel, drink in her hand. Courfeyrac and Enjolras whispered quietly between themselves, Enjolras still on the arm of the armchair. Courfeyrac looked up at him suddenly and laughed. Enjolras’ smile was brilliant and then he leaned down to kiss his friend on his cheek before he hopped off the chair and went to sit next to Grantaire, slipping an arm around his waist in a casual way that made Eponine narrow her eyes. She glanced back over to Courfeyrac as he scrunched his nose up at Combeferre who smiled back. Combeferre gave him a questionable thumbs up and Courfeyrac nodded back before pushing himself up out of the chair and going over to Marius. Throughout the whole exchange both men had pink cheeks and Eponine had the distinct feeling she was missing something. Eponine turned to the men next to her, “Is it just me or is something weird going on?” Bahorel resolutely kept his mouth shut and Feuilly opened and shut his mouth a few times. She narrowed her eyes. “What the fuck, guys.” 

“It’s nothing really.” Feuilly began slowly, “I saw Enjolras go upstairs with someone when Combeferre said he was at a meeting with his advisor one day and I don’t know, don’t you think he’d been acting weird lately?”

“I saw him come downstairs when he was supposed to be walking Grantaire home.” Bahorel thought he had been quiet but Enjolras’ head snapped up. 

“You saw me coming back downstairs?”

“Wait are you having sex with the upstairs neighbor?” Eponine asked, turning to look at Bahorel again, completely confused. Bahorel and Feuilly were both wide-eyed. 

“Shit.” Enjolras looked around the room, carefully avoiding Grantaire and lamely blurted out, “Of course not I have to go.” Before he grabbed his coat and tore out of the apartment. 

“Um—“ Eponine began, turning to Combeferre who for the first time in all the time she knew him, looked absolutely no help. 

“Did Enjolras just…run away?”

Courfeyrac headed towards the door, waving the others off. “I’m going to go grab him. It’s not a big deal.”

“Um—“ Bossuet began and Courfeyrac paused mid-step to glance at him. 

“…Unless it is?”

“It’s not—“ Grantaire protested and Courfeyrac crossed his arms. 

“Do you two know what’s going on?” 

Cosette pushed past them and grabbed her coat from next to the door, “I’ll go get him. Everyone wait here.” 

“He had a plan and…” Grantaire shrugged, “You know how he feels about diverting from plans, something bad always happens.” 

Courfeyrac looked to Grantaire, dressed in an old hoodie of Combeferre’s. “Wait I’m confused. He had a plan to tell us he was—?” He pointed upstairs. 

“Yeah I—“

Marius’ phone went off causing him to flinch, “Cosette said she can’t find Enjolras and that she’s coming back instead of chasing him around the city.” 

“I got this.” Jehan piped up, still sitting in Bahorel’s lap, texting rapidly. 

“Why do you know about this?” Combeferre asked carefully. 

Courfeyrac sighed, “I’m going after Enjolras. I’ve been so distracted, I should have noticed.” 

“Distracted?” Combeferre echoed blankly and the room collectively held their breath. Courfeyrac sent him a worn glance before slipping into his coat and heading out the door. 

“Courfeyrac!” Bossuet echoed, chasing after him. Musichetta grabbed both Joly and Bossuet’s coats and tossed them to her boyfriend. He nodded and followed after them. 

“So I guess we’re going outside?” Eponine sighed. She walked down the hall to look out the window. Courfeyrac and Bossuet were already standing with Cosette who looked three different kinds of exasperated. 

By the time everyone was downstairs (minus Eponine and Feuilly who decided to merely stood out on the fire escape), Courfeyrac and Bossuet were arguing over where they should look for Enjolras. 

“Jehan sent—yo—what’s your newest girl’s name?” Grantaire interrupted, turning to the poet at his side. 

Jehan looked to him, face scrunched up in confusion, “Newest girl? You mean Nalani?”

“Isn’t she the one you were dating when we went skiing?” Joly asked. 

“Who was the one with the purple hair?” Musichetta added. 

“Do you remember the one who made the disco ball?”

Jehan looked at his friends and lifted his arms as if to quiet them, “Guys—that’s Nalani. All of them.”

“No way.”

“We’ve been dating three years.” He continued in disbelief. 

“There’s no way all those girls are the same person.”

“Well…she did lose some weight? And she changes her hair a lot but—three years you guys.”

“Doesn’t matter. Jehan sent his girlfriend to go grab him so we should just…wait…here?” Grantaire finished lamely, the others arguing over top of him already. Jehan slipped his hand in his in sympathy. 

* 

Enjolras took a long sip from his tumbler, ignoring the small smile the bartender sent his way before they moved down to the other end of the bar. He and Grantaire had talked it over. They had agreed they would tell the others today. The perfect opportunity presented itself and he ran away. He ran away. 

He ran away like some scared little kid and honestly this was the first time Enjolras felt this close to completely mortified in a very long time. His phone buzzed in his pocket again, everyone must be texting him, but instead of ignoring it this time, he pulled it out and went straight to Grantaire’s message. 

Grantaire (5:25 PM): Sorry to say but what you just did was fucking adorable. So it looks like I win that argument. 

Grantaire (5:25 PM): (But please come back, Cosette’s worried about you.)

Grantaire (5:26 PM): (Also something totally happened between C&C)

And really he could have been more helpful. Had he told them in his absence? They hadn’t agreed on it, but Enjolras vaguely wanted him to. Just so the others got some of it out of their systems before he got there. He began to respond to Grantaire but found he didn’t know where to start. 

A petit woman with dark pink hair took the seat next to him and ordered a gin and tonic in a slightly accented voice. There was something familiar about her but Enjolras couldn’t put his finger on it. She didn’t speak until her drink was placed in front of her. Stirring it with a straw, she glanced over to him, “I was told I’d find you here.” Enjolras didn’t look up for a moment, convinced she was speaking to someone else, even though the bar was mostly empty. Finally he glanced up and she laughed. “You don’t remember me, do you?” 

“I—“ Enjolras began but she interrupted him with a shake of her head.

Holding her hand out she introduced herself again, “Nalani, Jehan’s girlfriend.” 

“I thought you two broke up.” Immediately, Enjolras swallowed thickly, that wasn’t what he had meant to say at all. 

She shook her head again, a smile playing at her lips. “I just went on an extended vacation to Colorado. I think his exact words were, ‘I shall perish with jealously’ and when I sent him a picture of us driving through a redwood he told me I was dead to him but no, three years and we’re still going strong.” 

“Sorry, I—“

“Don’t apologize, we both live our own lives, it’s not a big deal. I only very recently moved back to Paris full time.” She stirred her drink and studied the bottles behind the bar, “I was on my way to meet you guys actually when Jehan called and asked if I could try to find you. He said you ran out?” He would much rather it be Jehan sitting next to him and he found he couldn’t say, yeah my friends found out I’m having sex with the upstairs neighbor and I panicked and ran away. Nalani didn’t seem too perturbed by his silence, she just shrugged, “Jehan just sent me to get you and—“ her phone vibrated on the bar top and she lazily read the message, “Oh, he said they all left the apartment because Bossuet and Courfeyrac were arguing and they’re all in the courtyard.”

“What are they doing there?”

“Asking him now.”

“Why would they leave the apartment if Bossuet and Courfeyrac were fighting? Actually—why are they fighting?”

“They’re your friends not mine.” Her phone went off again and she smiled, “They’re being children. And your boyfriend needs you to save him.” 

“What—“ Enjolras began sharply but she just held up the phone so she could see Jehan’s text. 

“His words not mine, I have no idea who he’s referring to.”

Enjolras looked up to her and then couldn’t stop the small twist to his lips as he told her, “Grantaire. Grantaire’s my boyfriend.” 

Nalani smiled, “Oh good. Jehan was being purposefully obtuse so I didn’t know if it was him or the one who threw the milkshake at Bahorel at the Christmas party.” 

“Feuilly?”

“Yeah! That’s his name. Please don’t tell him I can’t remember it for the life of me.” 

“I don’t think you need to worry.” 

Jehan’s girlfriend took another sip of her drink, “So I don’t know why you bolted but if you want, I can tell Jehan I couldn’t find you. I can’t promise he’ll believe me. He seemed pretty certain about this place.” 

“No. That’s alright. I should go back to them. I shouldn’t have left in the first place.”

“Flight or fight?”

“And he deserves to be fought for.”

“Who…Grantaire?” she asked and at his nod, added, “Is everything alright?”

“Yes. No. I mean yes. It’s just…”

“If you want, you could tell me about it on the way over? I’ve never been one to ignore a boy who needs saving and I don’t think you are either.” 

“He doesn’t need saving, but no, you’re right. We should go.”

“Cool.” Nalani picked up her glass and held it up so that Enjolras could clink their drinks together. “Cheers.” She tilted the glass back and downed the drink, leaving Enjolras to follow at a slower pace. When she tried to pay, he brushed her aside and she met him at the door, bundled up in a coat that he recognized as Jehan’s, or it fit her better so it might have originally been hers. “Okay, so. You don’t have to tell me everything, just…think of this as a practice of sorts?”

Enjolras looked to her earnest expression and just—why not. “Right. Well, the others don’t exactly know Grantaire and I are dating.” 

* 

Jehan’s girlfriend laughed as she held the gate to the apartment complex open for Enjolras, a faint blush on his cheeks. “Well, I used to think the way Jehan asked me out was shitty but at least it wasn’t during sex.” 

“How did he ask you out?” Enjolras asked, genuine smile on his face. 

Before she had a chance to respond, Jehan called over to both of them from where he stood in the middle of the courtyard. “There they are—Nalani, Enjolras, over here!” 

Nalani slipped away from Enjolras’ side and wrapped her arm around Jehan’s waist. He kissed her cheek and then gave Enjolras a glance that screamed how amazing he thought she was. Enjolras found himself smiling back in return. 

A few feet away Courfeyrac whispered furiously into Combeferre’s ear, hand wrapped around his arm like it was the most natural thing in the world. Which it should be. Maybe it always was. 

Grantaire hesitantly walked over to Enjolras and tried to as non-conspicuously as possible ask him what was the matter. Enjolras just narrowed his eyes and shook his head. “I was stupid.” 

“You alright?” Feuilly called down from where he and Eponine stood on the fire escape. Enjolras squinted up to him and waved him off. Grantaire slipped his hand into Enjolras’ and Enjolras watched Feuilly’s eyes widen and nudge Eponine. He let his breath out, squeezed Grantaire’s hand and then reached down to grab a handful of snow. Silently he packed it in his hands. Grantaire frowned and stuck his hands into his pockets. 

Without warning Enjolras threw the snowball straight at Combeferre’s face. He had surprisingly good aim and Courfeyrac took a shocked step away, wiping the snow from his own face. “You just had to complain!” he shouted, already reaching down to get another handful of snow. He stood back up and turned to Grantaire. The other man’s eyes went wide but didn’t otherwise react before Enjolras threw the handful of snow at his face, “And you just had to move in the middle of winter! It’s not a vintage wine collection if you keep it in cardboard boxes under the sink!” 

“Oh my god.” Marius gasped, horrified, “This is the day Enjolras snaps and kills all of us.” 

Bahorel laughed despite himself and patted Marius on the shoulder. The younger man didn’t take his eyes off Enjolras even as Eponine shouted down at them, “What do you mean Grantaire moved?” She frowned in thought. “How long as it been since I’ve been over?”

“Grantaire lives upstairs.” Joly explained and sighed, as if keeping the information to himself had been painful. 

“There’s no apartment owner?” Courfeyrac gasped then turned to Combeferre next to him. “There. Is. No. Apartment. Owner.” Each word was punctuated with a handful of snow from the top of a nearby bench and Combeferre lifted his hands in a vain attempt to stop the assault. He still had snow in his hair from Enjolras’. 

“Will you stop?”

“Not until I—“ Courfeyrac’s words were cut off by Combeferre kissing him. Marius gave a little squeak and Bossuet just pointed at the two of them as if the others could have missed it. The two pulled apart and stared at each other. Several expressions crossed Courfeyrac’s face before he very slowly asked, “Do you want to date?”

“Yes.” 

Courfeyrac spun around to look at Enjolras and Grantaire. “That is how you do it!” he sang and Enjolras stalked forwards towards him. 

“I’m shoving snow down your shirt.” 

Courfeyrac squawked and ran towards Feuilly who threw his hands up. Combeferre just sat there in his absence, still a little shell-shocked. 

“You okay?” Bossuet asked, small smile twisting his lips. They ignored the sound of Courfeyrac trying to escape Enjolras’ wrath and Joly and Bahorel trying to process what they had just witnessed. 

“I didn’t mean to do that.” Combeferre confessed a little numbly. 

Bossuet amusement instantly faded into a soft concern. “You didn’t mean to kiss him or say yes or what?”

“I didn’t mean to kiss him.”

“Did you mean to say yes?”

“Of course. It’s just. I need a minute.” 

Bossuet smiled, “Please talk to him. Don’t skip to screwing his brains out.” 

Combeferre blinked and then turned to Bossuet, deadpanned. “I can’t believe you just said that to me.”

Bossuet patted his shoulder, “I still can’t believe you said it to me first.” He turned sharply as Courfeyrac came back over and threw his arms around Combeferre’s neck. 

“He stuffed snow down my shirt.” He complained into his shoulder and Combeferre sympathetically patted his back. 

Before Grantaire fully realized what was going on, a snowball came flying towards his face, he ducked and it hit Enjolras on the shoulder instead. Enjolras froze, affronted and Grantaire looked in the direction it came from. Marius immediately paled and pointed to Joly who was glaring murderously at Grantaire. 

“What?” Grantaire asked but then his eyebrows shot up, “Oh. Right.”

“I can’t believe you moved without telling anyone!”

“I was going to but then everyone knew and Enjolras and I didn’t know what the fuck we were doing and it was easier. Well not easier. It was just the two of us to move all my shit and Enjolras complained about—“

“We carried your sofa upstairs by ourselves. It took an hour. I still have bruises.”

“Are you sure those are from the sofa.” 

Enjolras’ face fell flat and the glare he sent Courfeyrac, sent the other man to hide behind Combeferre, laughing. Marius also shuffled behind Joly and Cosette. 

Combeferre seemed less sure than Courfeyrac. “So you’re…okay?”

“Yeah. We’re great.”

“Great.” Joly asked with a little grin on his face that prompted Enjolras to shift his weight from one foot to the other and glance to Grantaire. 

“So—ah, that is…what I mean to say is that…” Enjolras stopped talking and pressed his lips together, eyes widening in what looked like sheer panic before he turned to Grantaire at his side. Grantaire smiled gently at him and then put an arm around his shoulder. 

“I’m his boyfriend.”

“We’re dating!” Enjolras added quickly. 

Joly threw his arms up in the air, dropped his head back and sighed loudly. “Oh thank fuck. My two biggest problems have just solved themselves. There is a god. I’m sorry for doubting in you.” He told the snow-grey sky. 

Musichetta wrapped him in a hug, “Sweetheart, now’s not the time.” 

Joly’s reply was muffled in her chest but Bossuet helpfully translated it for everyone, “Of course now’s the time, Chetta.” 

“You hush too.” It was Joly more than Musichetta who pulled Bossuet into their hug, seeming overwhelmed with joy that his friends had gotten their acts together. 

Marius’s eyes went wide and then he started to laugh. Everyone stared at him as he covered his mouth, shaking his head, wholly unable to stop. Enjolras looked to Grantaire whose lips twitched ominously and sure enough he was laughing along with Marius about three seconds later. Enjolras rubbed his eyes and Courfeyrac leaned back against Combeferre, frowning pointedly. 

“Why the fuck are you laughing?”

“Marius—“ Grantaire gasped and shook his head. 

“What the fuck possessed you to rent the apartment above them.”

“It’s close to the University and work and—“

“Let me guess, Enjolras can be very persuasive?”

“Very persuasive and very lazy.”

“Excuse me. It was perfect timing.” Enjolras protested, but it went ignored. 

“I can’t believe Enjolras got his fucking two floor apartment.”

“Well it’s not ideal but—“

“Fucking hell, listen to you, not ideal. I’m so glad I didn’t know you when you were a kid, fucking Slytherins.” Bahorel crossed his arms and Cosette nudged him. 

“Woah, Bahorel, like you’re not one too.” 

“Can we maybe argue about sorting’s when we’re inside? Where it’s warm?” Joly asked, sporting an innocent smile. 

“Is that what all the hugging over there was for?”

Joly turned up his nose. “When all of you are sick and we’re not see if we take care of you.” 

Enjolras grabbed Grantaire’s hand, “Fine. Everyone back in the apartment.” Without looking at the others he headed towards the door. 

Courfeyrac jogged to catch up with them, “Grantaire I need you to clear something up for me!” 

Behind them, Combeferre made a sharp warning sound, “Don’t you do it!”

Courfeyrac ignored him and just took Grantaire’s arm in his, “So you’re not doing porn?”

“What?”

“Porn’s calm compared to the idea I had.” Bahorel sighed. 

“I don’t want to know.” Marius protested but Bahorel shook his head sadly, as if he were being forced to tell against his will. 

“I thought Grantaire was dating the person living upstairs but who was cheating on him with Enjolras. I thought we were doomed. There were going to be murders and I was sure I was going to jail for murdering the bastard who cheated on R.”

“What?”

Jehan and Musichetta laughed as they, Cosette, Marius and Nalani took the stairs. 

Bahorel nodded, “Yeah. Combeferre and Joly were both going to have to avenge their best friends and—“

“Woah what about me?” Courfeyrac protested. 

“Yeah and me!” Bossuet added. 

“You two are totally Tybalt and Mercutio, sorry.” He informed them flatly. 

“I’m offended.”

Courfeyrac smirked. “I’m not. Mercutio’s great.”

Bossuet glared at him as the elevator doors opened and they all crowded into it, “Who said you were Mercutio?”

“Grantaire’s on the upstairs balcony ergo he’s Juliet and you’re Tybalt. Sorry.”

Enjolras stepped out of the elevator, pulling Grantaire with him. Courfeyrac squawked in outrage as the doors closed on him. “What was that for?” Grantaire asked, glancing down at their joined hands and then back up to Enjolras’ face. 

“Thought maybe we should take the stairs.” Enjolras leaned forward and kissed him quickly. Grantaire smiled and rested their foreheads together. 

“I hope by take the stairs, you actually mean make out for a bit.” 

“Well, I’m not exactly opposed to the idea.” 

Enjolras leaned in to kiss Grantaire again but before he could, the elevator doors opened again and both of them were pulled inside by Courfeyrac and Bahorel who hissed, “Will you stop fucking doing that.” 


End file.
